


Friday's Child

by skyenapped



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Ethical Dilemmas, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orphan!Mike, Power Imbalance, Protective!Harvey, Sexual Coercion, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex, harvey is mostly a sociopath, lots of inaccurate legal stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyenapped/pseuds/skyenapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The devil’s candy was rarely this enticing, and while it sometimes did appear out of nowhere in only tight jeans with a full glass of Jack and Coke…it never looked quite this good.<br/>“You came back.”<br/>Harvey looked up at the shy, familiar face with an amused smile. “So you remember me?”<br/>Mike set the glass on the table beside Harvey’s hand and looked down. “Maybe.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harvey meets his match - he just didn't think it would be a sixteen year old shot boy in sparkly underwear. Also, Ted Phillips is still at the firm. He and Harvey are "friends".
> 
> I always get ridiculous plot bunnies at inconvenient times...this story is also probably a huge cliche. Please forgive any typos.
> 
>  **UNDERAGE** warning...Mike is 16/17, Harvey is however old he is canonically.

*

 

Harvey almost didn’t go in. It was Friday, fine, but the week had been long, tedious. He was tired. It wasn’t that he didn’t love hitting up strip clubs with his colleague, but tonight felt like a never-ending Thursday hangover and, remarkably, he thought some sleep sounded more appealing than neon lights and scotch and playing voyeur to lithe bodies on shiny poles.

“It’s 11:00, Harvey. Let’s live a little. God, you make me want to take an early retirement.”

Harvey pursed his lips in both amusement and annoyance. He shoved his hands in his pockets, turned his back on the street, and faced his friend. Er, friend, amongst other things. Colleague, former classmate, former roommate, current here-and-there lover, when the moment was right or, hell, when they just had too much to drink. Which might, in fact, be tonight, depending on what and how much they ordered.

“Alright,” he conceded. “But only because we won today.”

“Right.”

Harvey led them through the entrance of the bar where they left an expensive cover charge in the hands of a towering bouncer. It wasn’t a high end strip club, by any means, and this was obvious if only because ‘strip club’ was actually written in condensed neon text on the door. Neither was it in a bad part of town though. Somewhere in between, where they’d discovered they had the most fun. Not uptown with all the uptights, where they could afford to be but avoided at all costs, and not too far downtown that they were outnumbered by City College students or drug dealers – but somewhere in between, where the clientele was rowdy and longwinded but not quite obnoxious, and the dancers were young and cute and, dare Harvey admit, a little desperate.

This place wasn’t one of their usual hangouts, though they’d occasioned it a time or two after a well-deserved victory in court, much like the one they’d scored today. Pearson Specter Phillips crushed yet another New York financial mogul caught in the middle of a giant money laundering scam, and it was one of those career punctuating wins that just begged to be rewarded.

Jessica hadn’t been swayed to accompany them on this particular celebration.

“I’m afraid I’m still recovering from the last time I let you to drag me below 28th street,” she’d said, and with a raised eyebrow, added. “And for all of our sakes, please, don’t take anyone home without checking his ID.”

Harvey had just gaped, feigning confusion. “What? Why are you both looking at me?”

 

The place, unsurprisingly, was slowly filling up. Music and smoke circulated fittingly.

Once settled with their drinks – Jack and Coke, and yeah, it could be one of _those_ nights – Harvey turned in his seat.

“For the record, Ted,” he said, good-naturedly. “I don’t think hitting up an average gay strip club in Manhattan qualifies as ‘living a little’.”

Ted just grinned and shrugged, raised his palm up over his head. “I know, I know. Life is this, you like this.”

“Whatever.” Harvey took a large gulp and winced accordingly.

They’d gotten lost in the atmosphere; the music, their drinks, the dancers, and the occasional review of their court triumph, when a boy wearing only tight blue sparkly underwear nervously approached their table. He looked half-terrified, a little underfed, and not a day over seventeen.

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey muttered, completely by accident, and into his mostly-empty glass. His looked down in an effort to play it off, but he knew he’d already been caught, could feel Ted’s amused eyes burning into him before they glanced back up at the kid.

“I, uh, just came to see if you…if you gentlemen needed anything.” He thrust a shaky finger toward Harvey’s empty glass. “Like a refill.”

“You work here, kid?”

Harvey snorted. “Well, I don’t think he got in the front door wearing _that,_ Ted.”

The boy’s face flushed red and he glanced away from the two pairs of eyes roaming over his barely-clothed body.

“Well, I’d say yes,” Ted replied. “But I don’t think you’re old enough to serve us,” he made a point of running his gaze up and down one more time before specifying, “Liquor, that is.”

Clearly uncomfortable, but seemingly intent on not being scared off – and hell, maybe two guys in expensive suits were less threatening than the handsy, drunken ones at all of the neighboring tables – the kid slinked back a little, but held his ground. He laughed nervously.

“What are you, like, cops or something?”

Harvey felt his stomach tighten and he set his jaw and ensured his tone was stern. “Lawyers.”

It might have come out a little too harsh, if the way the boy stepped back was any indication.

“Sorry,” he said. “I, um, I’m eighteen, I swear.”

When neither look convinced, he stuttered on. “I really am. You can ask my boss.”

"Because _he_   wouldn't lie," Harvey muttered.

Ted chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it, kid.”

Conflicted – and greatly distracted by the boy’s state of dress, or lack thereof – Harvey shifted in his seat. “When's your birthday?”

“Harvey, give him a break.”

Harvey held up his hand and Ted shook his head and fell quiet.

“Uh, my what?”

“Your birthday, genius,” Harvey repeated, looking straight in his eyes. “You know. The year. You were born. Don’t do the math in your head. Just spit it out.”

Looking a little affronted, the boy answered, “Seven fifteen ninety five.”

Ted slid both of their glasses to the edge of the table. “Two Jack and Cokes, please.” He turned toward Harvey and raised an eyebrow, “You satisfied?”

Harvey nodded slowly. “Hey, kid,” he called, voice a little gentler. “What’s your name?”

“Mike.”

*

“You could’ve been a little nicer,” Ted complained, once Mike was out of sight. “That kid is hot as f–”

“Jailbait,” Harvey interrupted.

“You think he’s the only kid in here who looks like he should still have a curfew? Fuck, Harvey, half the guys on the pole can’t be more than twenty-one, tops.”

“Well, he’s the only kid in here who looks like _that,”_ Harvey insisted, to which Ted didn’t really have a response – or argument – so he just shrugged and nodded.

When Mike returned with their drinks, Harvey couldn’t help but give him a warm smile, which the kid seemed to devour without even the slightest question as to why Harvey had gone from uptight lawyer to handsome, mellow consumer in twenty-five seconds. That level of glaring naiveté nearly set Harvey’s insides on fire.

“God,” he muttered, watching Mike as he walked away again. “He’s like a walking preview for Law and Order SVU.”

"Yeah, kind of makes you want to cover him up and get him out of here or something."

"Or something."

With a combined sigh and laugh, Ted shook his head. “Will you just admit that you’re having a midlife crisis?”

“I’m not having a _crisis,”_   Harvey said, voice strained and unconvincing.

“Yeah, you are. You can’t even justify picking up _twenty-five_ year olds anymore and now you’re freaking out because that eighteen year old Scarlet Letter is young enough to be your son but that doesn’t change the fact that you want to take him home and fuck him senseless. So what does Harvey Specter do?”

Harvey rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. “Are you done yet?”

Laughing victoriously, Ted clanked their drinks together.

*

 

Harvey wasn’t used to going out alone, and never for no particular reason. Typically, Ted or Jessica – or even, occasionally when they were on good terms, Louis – joined him when he ventured into the abyss of Manhattan’s nightlife. And more often than not, it was in response to a recent victory or some milestone the firm had reached.

The next time he went out after him and Ted managed to leave the strip club without robbing any cradles, though, he was alone – intentionally – and it had been a fairly routine Friday without any especially noteworthy accomplishments. He still deserved a drink, some music, and a somewhat predatory view of scantily clad young men if he did say so himself and, maybe, just maybe, he was a little glad when Ted declined his offer to come along with a, “You know how tempting that is, Harvey, but I have a meeting with O’Rourke tomorrow and I really need to wake up in my own bed.”

At that, Harvey had scoffed. “Really? Is mine getting too familiar?”

Ted had given him A Look, and they’d both laughed.

Now, Harvey was standing outside a mildly-shady building with a familiar neon sign in the window, and cursing himself quietly under his breath. It was a bad idea – he knew that much already – but there were some things he admittedly lacked the willpower to resist.

As it turned out, that was a supposedly-eighteen year old shot boy in next to nothing who, for some reason Harvey had yet to pinpoint, looked alarmed by the surroundings he’d clearly placed his own self in. None of this was extremely groundbreaking, except that usually, Harvey didn’t put this much effort into it, rarely looked at the same person twice, and certainly didn’t seek out the same place on the same night of the week to find said person. No one had ever piqued his interest enough to be worth that kind of effort.

But, he’d spent seven days trying to rid his mind of the footage of Mike and for some infuriating reason, he hadn’t succeeded. So there he was. Doing what, exactly? That was a question he refused to answer on the ground that, well, he probably didn't want to hear the answer.

He sighed and did a quick surveillance of the place, bustling as always with activity, and when he didn’t immediately spot the blonde hair kid, Harvey sat down at a nearby table feeling a little disappointed – and what was _that_   about?

“Hm,” he said to himself at the thought, and shrugged it away along with the majority of doubts or preemptive guilt he’d had. He could afford to indulge. Besides, the devil’s candy was rarely this enticing, and while it sometimes did appear out of nowhere in only tight jeans with a full glass of Jack and Coke…it never looked quite this good.

“You came back.”

Harvey looked up at the shy, familiar face with an amused smile. “So you remember me?”

Mike set the glass on the table beside Harvey’s hand and looked down. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Apparently this kid was sarcastic, too. Harvey couldn’t decide if he liked that yet or not, but signs were pointing to yes, like the way he shifted in his seat from…nerves? Interesting.

“Where’s your friend?”

“Why are you answering my question with a question?”

“Uh. Why are you?”

Harvey raised his eyebrow and leaned back, eyes darting over Mike’s body not inconspicuously. “Okay, smartass,” he said. “Here’s a question: who covered you up? And why?”

“That’s two questions,” the boy pointed out, and laughed at himself before he even finished the sentence. “…Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Harvey told him gently. It was hard to be annoyed because a smile looked so good on Mike it made up for the immaturity in spades.

Mike sighed. “I, uh, I haven’t worked here that long. The night you met me was my third day and—”

“Ah. That’s why you looked like you just escaped from someone’s dungeon. Still do, actually.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. So, what’s with the pants?”

“It’s…cold in here?”

It was cold, Harvey could agree with that. But he also had a solution. “If you got up there,” he suggested, nodding toward the many poles behind them. “I bet you’d warm up.”

He had a few other ideas on how to warm him up, but he decided those were best kept to himself. At least for now.

“I don’t, um…I don’t do that. Yet.”

“Yet?”

Mike shrugged. “They haven’t trained me yet. I, uh, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t really know what to do. I wouldn't be any good.”

 _Trained him?_   God. Damn.

Harvey considered, in that moment, getting up and leaving. Just calling it, and never, ever coming back here because that’s what a responsible person would do. And he was responsible. The epitome of it, in fact. But he took one look at the exit sign, and one look back at Mike and the lip currently caught between his teeth – and Harvey's reservations slipped to the back of his mind. He stayed put.

“Well, you’ll have to learn soon, huh?”

Mike nodded. It was odd, the way he looked so uncomfortable and yet he had brought Harvey a drink unprompted – the _right_ drink, too; impressive memory not lost on Harvey – and was still lingering just a few feet away as if waiting, or hoping, for something.

“Tell me something,” Harvey said, after a minute. “And don’t lie, okay?”

“Um,” Mike looked confused, maybe even a little annoyed by the implication that he would lie in the first place. “Okay?”

“Are you really eighteen? You can tell me if you’re not.”

Mike laughed again, really laughed this time, and then his face fell. “Seriously?”

“Again with the questions.”

“You asked me that last time.”

“And you hesitated,” Harvey reminded him. “You also blinked, looked at my friend for help, and avoided eye contact. The hallmark of deception.”

The kid stiffened, looking a little offended if not actually angry, which all seemed to be adding up to a confession. But then things took a turn that Harvey – god help him – honestly never saw coming. Mike took what seemed like an uncharacteristically bold step closer, reached down for Harvey’s hand and guided it up to his stomach, slowly pushing four of both of their fingers into the beginning of his waistband, seemingly confident that Harvey wouldn’t pull – or look – away. He was right about that.

“Even if I told you I was sixteen, you wouldn’t do shit about it,” Mike began, just holding Harvey’s fingers against the skin there, just an inch or so below a belt loop. “Because you know these places operate primarily on the steady availability of desperate teens and young adults as well as the silence of its clientele on the matter.”

Harvey swallowed, tearing his eyes off where his fingers disappeared in favor of looking up. He masked the surprise on his face with a smug, I’m-completely-indifferent look of boredom, as though the boy was cute, but not all that compelling. Inside, though, Harvey battled down the urge to turn the tables again, lock _his_   hand around Mike’s wrist and drag him outside. But he was tugged from his taboo and spiraling thoughts when Mike continued, voice the slightest bit shaky but more confident than Harvey had heard him sound on either of the occasions they’d spoken. So he was faking it ‘til he made it – sort of – but Harvey could respect that.

“Besides, there’s only two motivations you could have for trying to confirm that I’m legally an adult,” Mike explained. “And the first one is bullshit, because if you actually cared about whether I was too young to serve you liquor, you wouldn’t _want_ to know how old I was. That way, if this place ever got busted you’d be able to use plausible deniability to cover your ass. Which brings me to the second reason—”

Harvey breathed in sharply through his nose in anticipation. He squinted up at Mike to maintain his pretense of being much less fazed by this revelation than he really was. So the kid wasn’t just a pretty face. But why did he care so much?

“Yeah?” he asked, somehow managing to not to sound a little wrecked. “And what’s that?” He picked up his drink, mouth suddenly dry, and took a large gulp.

Mike looked down, eyes bright blue even in the dimness of the place, lips stupidly pink, and in a completely certain voice, declared, “You want to fuck me without worrying about going to jail.”

Harvey choked on his Jack and Coke, sputtered and aspirated helplessly, spent several seconds clearing his throat before he was even able to set his glass back where it was without spilling what was left of it. Mike looked incredibly pleased with himself, if still a little nervous, like a poster child for doing exactly what you’re afraid to do for the sake of doing it.

“That's all real fascinating, kid,” Harvey told him finally, after he’d mostly-recovered from inhaling his drink. “But you assume I was trying to confirm that you’re legal, instead of trying to confirm that you aren’t.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “What’s the difference?”

Harvey shrugged. “You tell me.”

Mike studied him for a moment, as if figuring out exactly what Harvey was getting at, but with the way his eyes roamed up and down Mike’s body and the way his fingers started to dig into his skin just a little, it all clicked.

“Oh.” Mike glanced away briefly, and then, with a bit of renewed audacity, leaned down and put his mouth an inch from Harvey’s ear. _“I turn seventeen in a week,”_   he whispered, and when Harvey noticeably shivered, Mike had to suppress a giggle.

 _“Fuck,”_ Harvey breathed. And then he picked up his drink and downed it.  

 

*

It hadn’t been easy to drag himself away from the degree of temptation that was Mike, but Harvey had done it, had replaced his fingers with a hundred dollar bill, stood up and walked out. He was both proud and extremely unsatisfied as a result. None of which went unnoticed at work.

“I went back to that club,” he admitted, on the end of a slightly ashamed sigh after more than a little prodding from Ted. “God damn it.”

Ted looked up from his desk. “Without me?”

“You were too busy with O’Rick and—”

“O’Rourke. Fifty-million dollar O’Rouke.”

“Fine,” Harvey swiped the air. “Afraid if you went out with me the night before and we ended up sleeping together for, oh, I don’t know, the _hundredth_   time, you wouldn’t be able to focus the next day.”

“Yeah, right,” Ted told him, but he didn’t deny it. He paused and when he put it all together, added, “You went to see that kid, didn’t you? I fucking knew it. Midlife crisis, Harvey. Harvey, midlife crisis.”

“No,” Harvey shook his head. “A midlife crisis is when married people with three kids go out and buy a Ferrari and cheat on their wives.”

“Not every midlife crisis looks like _American Beauty,_   Harvey. Sometimes it’s just an ethical dilemma.” Ted laughed like Harvey’s discomfort was incredibly entertaining.

“He’s not eighteen,” Harvey deadpanned after a few minutes.

“An underage kid working at an unregulated Manhattan strip club? I’m dismayed.”

“You know what? I don’t like you when you’re this sarcastic.”

“Now you know how everyone else feels.”

Harvey rolled his eyes.

“So, did you take him home?”

“What?! No! Jesus, Ted. _He’s sixteen.”_

“Oh, right.” Ted shrugged and nodded, agreeing with the problem there.

“Besides, you’re assuming he’d even go with me, anyway.”

“When did you get so self-deprecating? Where's the Harvey that walks into any given establishment and just...takes his pick?”

“You don’t know him, Ted,” Harvey grumbled. “That kid you met last week? Not the same kid.”

“Hm.” Ted frowned in thought and then smirked.“So, he hid his genius until he had you alone? Interesting. But, yeah, probably definitely would not go home with you.”

Harvey made an unimpressed face. “It doesn’t matter anyway, he’s too young. Okay?”

“Are you asking me to talk you out of this or into it?”

“I don’t know, but shouldn’t you be doing the former?”

Ted sat back in his chair, grinning. “Maybe it’s fun watching Harvey Specter lose his cool over a teenager.”

Harvey scowled, “Like I said. Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” Ted agreed. 

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

"Yeah." Harvey sighed miserably. "...Shit.”

 

*

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I tried not to overthink this too much, so hopefully it's okay, and I did my best to find any typos.
> 
> Thank you for the feedback! I know it's a sensitive tag/topic.

*

Harvey was at his desk, trying to focus, but Ted was in his peripheral vision, sprawled on the couch, tossing a baseball in the air with a rhythmic, obnoxious clapping sound that eventually caused Harvey to put down a pen and look up.

“Are you _trying_ to distract me?’

“Yes.”

“I’m not biting. We have court in three hours.”

Ted scoffed. “Which is _why_ I’m distracting you.” He sat up. “Harvey this case is solid. Now you’re just obsessing. You do it a lot.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. And if I don’t snap you out of it, even when we win, you still brood in the corner for two hours drinking scotch and you don’t even want to fuck for like thirty-six hours. Which, I’ll admit, occasionally inconveniences me.”

Harvey smirked and made a good-natured shooing motion with one hand. “Get off my couch.”

“I prefer it to mine. Jessica furnished my office and everything in there is decidedly less comfortable.”

“She also hired you first, so if you’re trying to say I’m the favorite. Don’t.”

“You’re the favorite.”

“You know what? I am. She only hired you first because you graduated—what was it?— _two_ entire years before me?”

“Hah, right,” Ted rolled his eyes. “So I’m a little older and yet I’m not the one having a repressed emotional breakdown over turning the big 4-0.”

“I’m not even forty yet,” Harvey grumbled, pretending to go back to his work. Except now his concentration was all but shot. “And I’m not…having a breakdown.”

“Okay. Well, while I slowly watch you unravel, can I at least enjoy it?”

Harvey glared and Ted leaned back, laughing.

“Hey, speaking of turning forty…” Ted sounded amused and Harvey eyed him suspiciously. “What’s the deal with the fetus?”

“What?”

“You know. Jailbait. Boytoy. Twink.” He cocked his head. “Should I continue or—”

“All right. I get it. But—” Harvey put on his best poker face. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I told you yesterday. I haven’t been there since Friday.”

Ted raised an eyebrow. “Friday when he tried to seduce you.”

Teasing Harvey gave him great pleasure. Even back at Harvard, it had always been the nature of their relationship, and if the tables were turned, he knew Harvey wouldn’t hesitate to even the score.

“He wasn’t trying to seduce me. He was putting on a show to get a good tip. And it worked.”

“Hm. So he’s a little capitalist.”

“Maybe.”

“You know, that’s a good quality in a lawyer.”

“No kidding. You want me to pull him out of the corrupt world of underage stripping and send him to Harvard?”

Ted shrugged and Harvey could hear the amusement in his voice. “Like Jessica did with you? I mean, the mailroom was—”

“Shut up, Ted.”

“Fine,” he laughed. Composing himself, he eventually asked, “What are you gonna do?”

Harvey took a leisurely breath and exhaled, “Well, first I’m gonna kick ass in court today while you sit second chair for a change. Then I’m gonna celebrate yet another win with some Talisker, and later on I thought I’d let you fuck me into the mattress but now I’m starting to reconsider.”

“You love it too much to reconsider.”

“Maybe I won’t if you give me some useful advice. Like, I don’t know, a friend would.”

“Friend,” Ted snickered. “That’s the most politically correct title you ever given our relationship.”

“That’s the most politically correct title _anyone’s_ ever given our relationship.”

“Touché.”

“So? Advice?”

“What, on the kid?”

Harvey held up his hands like, _what else?_ “Yeah, Ted, the kid.”

“Oh, right. Um, well, Jesus, Harvey. I don’t fucking know. Technically, yeah, you should wait a week. Otherwise, if you really want to fuck him like _, right now,_ then just do it. I have about as much of a soul as you, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m a little surprised your morals aren’t at least a little higher than mine.”

Ted snorted, “Our ethics have never extended too far outside of the firm, Harvey.”

Harvey considered that for a minute and then conceded with a shrug. “True. Hey, wait a second.”

“What?”

“You said wait a week.”

“Yeah, so? I mean, why stake your career on a one night stand, anyway? If he’s that special, wait until he’s legal. Jesus, Harvey, it’s _one_ week. If you need me to get you through it, just say the word.”

“Seventeen is legal?”

“When’s the last time you brushed up on your statutes? Harvard?”

“You were there,” Harvey said. “You should know.”

“All I ‘know’ is that you ditched me for Scottie half the time.”

“I thought we buried that hatchet?”

“I did,” Ted told him, and then grinned. “Not sure about her though.”

He sat and watched Harvey run a hand over his face, could almost see the confliction in his mind; the stress of their case, impending courtroom decisions, and, of course, the forbidden fruit.

“All right, look,” he announced, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “Tomorrow night, we have a date at—”

“Since when do we go out on Wednesdays?”

“Since you asked for my help.”

Harvey’s face went a little sober. “It’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a _great_ idea,” Ted insisted. “You wanna make a decision, that’s your best bet. You just need to see him again and it’ll be like tossing a coin in the air. All of a sudden you’ll know exactly what you want.”

“I don’t know.” Harvey rebelled against the part of his brain telling him _no,_ and with what was only a half-reluctant nod, he breathed, “Yeah, okay.”

Satisfied with his plan, Ted stood up victoriously. Because in the very least it would be entertaining, and if it forced Harvey to reevaluate _their_ relationship, well, even better.

Donna waltzed inside, “Your witness would like you to call them back.”

Harvey reached for his phone but Donna shook her head and then motioned in Ted’s direction. “Not you. Him.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who were you two talking about?”

Ted strolled to the door. “Ask him,” he said. “I gotta go.”

Curiosity piqued, Donna was tempted to pry more information out of Harvey, but something told her she’d get it out of him eventually.

Ted moved carefully past her, thanked her exaggeratedly, to which she smiled and shoved him out, but not before he turned around, meeting Harvey’s eyes and winking.

After he was gone, Donna leaned again the glass wall for minute, just observing Harvey as he stared blankly at the work on his desk. Ted was right. He was obsessing.

“Harvey.” Her voice was soft, and it gently tugged him back to reality.

"Huh?"

“You know you’re gonna end up marrying him, right?”

Harvey just looked at her, processing the words. Then he shifted his gaze back down at his desk, a faint, reverent smile on his lips.

 

**

Harvey took the glass of Jack and Coke with a pleased, shark-like smile. “You shouldn’t be so presumptive. What if I wanted something different tonight?”

Mike called his bluff. “Did you?”

Harvey made a face. Next to him, Ted laughed at his expense.

“So,” Ted looked up at Mike who was lingering beside the table. “Hell of a way to spend your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Almost, kid,” Harvey said. Not that he was counting down or anything.

Mike rolled his eyes insolently. “Three days. And why are lawyers so obsessed with semantics?”

“Why are strippers so obsessed with back-talking?”

“Technically I’m not a stripper yet.”

Ted jumped in between sips of his drink, _“Technically_ he should be home studying, but you’re conveniently ignoring that particular detail.”

“I’m standing right here,” Mike muttered.

“How could I miss you?” Ted asked, a bit sarcastic. “You’re wearing leather pants and nothing else.”

Mike glanced at Harvey, almost for help, but Harvey just stared back and licked his lips.

Eventually, Mike walked away to attend to other patrons, most of who were shouting out orders at him from several yards away. Even from a distance, Harvey could see that he looked more than a little tired; weary in a way that a teenager shouldn’t be – at least, not because they were working overnight at a strip club.

 

Four drinks and a little over an hour later, Ted stood up.

“Now who’s making who want to take an early retirement?” Harvey asked.

“I left at seven this morning, remember?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, that’s because you were sound asleep. Using all the blankets.”

Harvey didn’t deny it.

“Now I’m half drunk,” Ted continued, fighting back a yawn. “And I’m going to fall asleep at the table if I don’t leave.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harvey offered.

“Are you sure I’m the one you want to go home with?”

“Do you even have to ask that?”

Ted shrugged, reached down and slid four fingers through Harvey’s hair. “No. But I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow night. Until then,” he smirked, “I think I’ll survive.”

Harvey just rolled his eyes and waved him off.

There was a lull in time, fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe, where Harvey just sat back, nursed his drink and enjoyed the warmth as the liquor spread through his body, not too much, not too little, just the perfect balance between sober and buzzed.

Through the mild haze, he turned toward the stage, eyes moving lazily over the dancers, until what looked like Mike off in the corner caught his eye. He was being berated by a taller, older man, though Harvey couldn’t hear anything he was saying over the thrumming techno and loud voices. Mike was looking down at his feet while the man’s mouth moved and his hands flailed in angry gesticulation. Finally, Mike nodded pitifully and the man stormed off, disappearing into the back of the club.

The next time Mike approached Harvey’s table with a new drink, he looked measurably shaken, timid, eyes a little red.

“What happened over there?” Harvey asked, looking up in… _concern?_

Mike shrugged. “Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. Who was that?”

“Um…” Mike stalled, looking around nervously. “The owner.”

“What's his problem?"

“Well…uh…apparently I’m not making them enough money, because I’m not up there,” he nodded toward the stage. “But I just, I just haven’t…I’m not that confident and I just need some more time, but he said…”

Mike trailed off, looking down to hide his face.

“Hey,” Harvey said gently. “What did he say? Did he fire you?”

“No. He said, uh, I had to make up for it. For not making the club enough money. He said I have to use the VIP room,  that it’ll make them the most in the shortest time. ‘Cause they take like seventy-five percent of it.” Mike looked worriedly from Harvey to a door across the room. “I don’t…I don’t wanna go in there.”

Harvey studied him for a moment and then sighed. “Why don’t you quit, Mike? You shouldn’t be working here anyway. It’s the last place a sixteen year old should be. Not to mention illegal.”

Mike’s head snapped up. “I can’t quit,” he explained, shaking his head wildly. “I can’t, I need this money and…wait, are you gonna tell? Please don’t tell—”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone anything. But there are other ways to make money, Mike.”

“I can’t make enough working part time after school anywhere else, and I need this money now.”

Harvey frowned. “How much do you need?”

“A lot.”

“What for?”

“I…” Mike averted his eyes. “I just…there’s something I have to pay for. It’s important.”

“But you can’t tell me what it is?”

No answer.

“Fine,” Harvey said softly. “So what happens if you don’t go in there?”

“He’ll fire me,” Mike replied, voice shaking. “He talked to me about it a few days ago and so he said this was my last chance but I…I’m afraid to—”

“Alright, alright, listen,” Harvey put up his hand to stop him. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re gonna go in there with me. We’ll talk, I’ll pay you, you’ll keep your job. Deal?”

Mike looked at him with cautiously hopeful blue eyes. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.”

Unconvinced, Mike bit his lip and rocked back on his heels.

Harvey stood and reached out for his hand. “Come on. It’s okay.”

“Just talk?” Mike asked, and between the skepticism in his voice and the clear uncertainty in his expression, Harvey realized all of Mike’s short bursts of audacity, the smartass comments, the way he’d hovered close like he knew how irresistible he was – might have a front, possibly even a defense mechanism. In reality, the kid still seemed a little terrified, and a lot desperate.

“Just talk,” Harvey promised. He nodded toward the other tables and booths of nefarious-looking men.  “You trust me, Mike? Or do you trust them?”

Mike hesitated and then accepted Harvey’s hand. “You,” he said, and quickly followed.

 

**

The VIP room, Harvey decided, was a glorified title for what was really just a small room with old, red suede couches and a worn black table that balanced on unsteady legs. It appeared cleaned, which was probably deceptive, and it was painfully obvious that it hadn't been updated since the very beginning of the 21st century. He shuddered to think of exactly what went on in here and with whom.

When he closed and locked the door, it was hard to ignore the way Mike flinched. It occurred to Harvey that Mike had to feel vulnerable to an extent that he couldn't understand since he had the upper hand, and really, Mike didn't know him very well at all. Still, Harvey decided he had to be somewhat less imposing to Mike than all of the drunken, sketchy men who brazenly pawed at him on a regular basis. But, the idea that Mike had to roll the dice in any capacity remained more than a little depressing.

“Sit,” Harvey ordered, after watching him pace for several minutes.

Mike obeyed, but quickly began fidgeting with his hands. “Um. So…”

Harvey took a seat, but kept a few feet between them. “So tell me what you need all this money for.”

“Do I have to?”

“No. But I bet you’d feel better if you did.”

Mike swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “It’s…my grandmother. She’s…she’s in a nursing home and I owe them a lot of money and if I don’t pay, they’re gonna move her to a state facility and I probably won’t be able to see her and…” he trailed off and sniffled before stuttering again, “I just really need to pay them and then I can…then I can quit and just get a regular job and…and it’ll be fine.”

Harvey frowned. “Exactly how much do you owe this place?”

“Um, a lot.”

 _“Um,_ what’s ‘a lot’?”

“Twenty…twenty-five thousand.”

“And your parents aren't responsible for this because…?”

“’Cause they’re dead.”

 _Of course they are,_ Harvey thought. _Because why would this kid catch any sort of break at all._

“So where—who do you live with?”

Mike hesitated, opened his mouth but said nothing.

“Mike?”

Finally, he caved. “I don’t really live with anyone,” he admitted.

“You must live somewhere.” Harvey looked at him expectantly.

“Mostly I stay with my best friend and his family. But when they’re out of town I…well…there’s this shelter a few blocks from my school and—” Mike stared at the floor and hugged his arms around himself. His voice went a little bitter when he admitted, “But technically…I’m a ward of the state. They just don’t keep track.”

Harvey took a deep breath at the revelation and wiped his mouth, momentarily regretting having not gone home with Ted when he’d had the chance. He could be blissfully fucked out and half asleep by now, instead of negotiating with an orphan that he felt oddly torn between ravaging and rescuing.

After a few minutes of silence, he stood up and shrugged off his jacket. He didn't miss the full-body wince Mike did or the way his body visibly tensed.

“Hey,” Harvey said softly, walking forward and draping his jacket around Mike’s bare shoulders. “Just put this on. It’s 60 degrees in here and you’re shaking.”

Looking relieved, Mike slipped his arms through the sleeves and pulled it around him. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Harvey went back to his seat, pulling out his wallet, followed by cash and a business card.

“This is for tonight,” he explained, setting the cash down between them. “It should be enough to keep you from getting fired.”

“I…I don’t think I can take that,” Mike told him, eyes going a little wide at the stack. _Who even carried that much around_? “I didn't do anything to earn it.”

Harvey nudged the money closer to him. “Take the money, Mike. It’s okay.”

After several seconds of what looked like an agonizing internal struggle, Mike reached out and took the cash. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Harvey ignored the apology and handed Mike his business card. “This is my card. My number’s on it. You get into trouble, you call me.”

Mike took the card, examining it closely. "You're really a lawyer," he said softly, a little impressed.

"Yes," Harvey replied. "Now listen. You don’t come in here with anyone else. If someone tries to bring you in here, you leave. You walk out the door first, and then you call me. Understood?”

Mike nodded again, though he looked markedly caught off guard by the altruism, as if no one had ever showed him a shred of it before.

"But what about my job?"

"You wanna be a shot boy and get paid a shitload of money to be objectified from a safe distance, be my guest. Beyond that, you call me. We'll worry about your job after. Okay?"

Mike took a shaky breath, looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback! :) I'll add more tags as they become relevant. 
> 
> (also it's 4am so if I missed some typos please forgive me!)

*

 

It was less than two days later – half past one a.m. Friday morning – when Harvey got the call. To tell the truth, he’d been expecting one, just not quite so soon. Then again, Mike spent half his time as live bait in a tank full of sharks and the glass was bound to break at some point. So it might as well have been now, thirty minutes after Harvey turned off his lights and hit the pillow.

In fact, he figured Mike had probably been waiting on a lifeline for a while now; that maybe the short time lapse since their last visit was just the kid trying hold out, look somewhat less desperate. In any case, he was failing. The tears in his voice on the other of the line didn’t help his case.

“Are you inside?” Harvey asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes and tripping over a pair of shoes. He cursed before pulling on the nearest jeans with one hand, stumbling around in the dark looking for keys and wondering exactly what the hell he’d been thinking when he’d given Mike his number in the first place. Or, why he cared so much to begin with; why he couldn’t just walk the hell away. By nature, he didn’t consider himself particularly selfless anyway and most people he knew probably agreed. The occasional pro-bono case Jessica force-fed him was one thing, but actually looking to perform some random act of altruism wasn’t really his style. His style was winning, which typically involved money and greed and clients a lot closer to the ninety-nine percent than anything else. So while none of this meant that he’d kick a stray puppy – so to speak – he probably wouldn’t take one home either.

Until now, apparently.

“No,” Mike replied. He sounded awful. “I left like you t-told me to.”

“Good, that’s good. Where are you now?”

“Outside.”

“Out front?”

“Yeah.”

“Walk down the street at little, get away from the club,” Harvey said. “Stay on the phone. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Mike let out a shaky breath of relief. “Okay.”

 

*

Between crying and apologizing profusely for waking Harvey up, Mike was a mess before he’d even managed to get into the car and close the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey breathed. There was blood everywhere, though Mike was doing a pretty sufficient - if frantic - job of keeping it contained to his body and off the seats. “What the f—hell happened?”

Harvey was five seconds away from parking, walking into the club, and giving into the sudden – and somewhat alarming – urge to smash someone’s face into a wall, before the impulse subsided when Mike eventually explained why he looked like a stabbing victim.

“I did it,” he admitted, lifting one of his hands away from his face.

“You broke your nose?”

“Didn’t break it,” Mike mumbled. “Just made it bleed.”

“Why would you do _that?!_ ” Harvey barked. Noticing Mike was actually wearing a shirt this time, he reached over and tugged at it. “Take this off. Put pressure on it.”

“Got to leave. Didn’t get fired.”

“So you, what, slammed your face into a wall so you could take a night off?”

Mike laughed bitterly, his words a little slurred the more he spoke. “It was a door. And I didn’t…know it would, y’know, bleed this much.”

He balled up his bloody shirt, pressed it against his nose and whimpered in pain.

Harvey ran his hand over his face. This was a disaster, and more of one yet when Mike took a deep breath, sighed, and the bitter smell of vodka drifted across the seat.

“Are you drunk?” It would explain at least part of the night.

“Made me,” Mike said, voice a little muffled by the part of his shirt that was half-covering his mouth.

“Made you?” Harvey reached over and gently pushed the material up, trying not to put any more pressure on Mike’s nose. “How much?”

“Don’t know. Shots.” When Mike peeked over the makeshift bandage and noticed Harvey’s disapproving stare, he added, “I didn’t want to. Said it…it would…” He trailed off, tipping his head back with a half-sob, half-groan of defeat.

Harvey watched for a minute before he shook his head and put the car in gear, deciding that the Spanish Inquisition could wait, at least until the blood clotted and they weren’t idling by a curb anymore.

 

*

Once in Harvey’s living room, Mike stood there shirtless, with dried streaks of blood on his face, neck, and chest, looking lost and miserable and a little confused about where he even was. It took Harvey a full minute to herd him into the bathroom.

“If you take a shower are you going to fall and break your neck?”

Mike nodded.

“Yes?”

“No.”

“You just shook your head yes.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Harvey raised his eyebrow. “You’re _past_ drunk.”

“Ngh...I can do it.”

He swayed a little, but there was really only one way to get all the blood off him, so Harvey grabbed a towel and set it on the counter.

“I’ll put clothes outside the door.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t take all night, kid.”

Mike nodded, standing there dumbly until Harvey walked out.

 

*

“Drink,” Harvey ordered quietly. He stood in front of the couch, extending a glass of water in Mike’s direction. Mike downed almost all of it in a few gulps.

“Thanks,” he whispered. He looked up at Harvey gratefully, probably _too_ grateful, like he’d been given a heart transplant instead of a ride home and a shower. His hair was half-wet, a darker shade of blonde, and while his eyes were still bloodshot and a little unfocused, he no longer smelled like smoke and a distillery, but of soap. His nose was a little bruised, but otherwise okay and all of the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Swimming in an old t-shirt of Harvey’s and sweatpants with the drawstrings pulled tight, Mike suddenly didn’t look _entirely_  out of place sitting there, and Harvey didn’t know what that meant or what the hell was happening.

Then Mike leaned forward and faceplanted into his thigh. For a second, Harvey chalked it up to Mike’s residual intoxication. There was no telling how many shots of vodka and God knows what else he’d been coerced into drinking, and a little clumsiness was understandable. But when Harvey put a hand on his shoulder to push him back, Mike curled his fingers around the leg of Harvey’s pants, burrowing his face a little harder just below Harvey’s right hip, trying to stay there, practically _nuzzling_ his leg.

Harvey’s breath hitched at the contact. “Mike…”

The reply was muffled, stubborn. _“No.”_

“No?”

“Uh-uh.” Mike shifted, dragging his nose and mouth closer to Harvey’s crotch, and Harvey bit his lip and realized changing out of his jeans had been a good idea – but a really, really, _really bad_ one.

 _“Fuck,”_ he gasped, feeling a puff of warm breath through his sweats. He tightened his grip on Mike’s shoulder and pushed again, though admittedly it was a weak, half-assed attempt to actually move him. “Mike, stop.”

Mike finally pulled away, but only by a couple inches, still _way_ too close to Harvey’s dick. “Why?” He looked up innocently, like he didn’t understand what the problem was. “I thought you…wanted…” He tugged weakly on Harvey’s pants, but he barely had the strength or coordination to even get them over his hips. “I can…”

 _“No,”_ Harvey said, a little more firmly this time. He knew he should just walk away; end it right then before everything got even more out of hand than it already was. But he stood, feet like lead holding him to the spot, watching Mike fumble with his waistband and getting frustrated by his own impaired dexterity. Eventually, Mike gave up, leaning forward and letting his lips collide with the small expanse of freshly revealed skin where Harvey’s tan started to fade.

Feeling himself starting to get hard, Harvey pried his gaze off of Mike’s young, dazed face, and closed his eyes. But the image was still there, and following that was a wall of panic and guilt that his conscience was slamming into. Because Mike wasn't quite seventeen, could pass for fifteen, was wounded, confused, _and_ drunk. When Harvey remembered all of this...he freaked.

“Shit.” He shoved Mike’s shoulder, hard, harder than he’d really intended, and took two steps backwards. “Shit, shit, _shit.”_

Looking startled and a little more sober, Mike landed back against a cushion, looking up with wide, surprised eyes. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought I was supposed to…” he looked away, leaned to the side just enough to hide most of his face in the pillow Harvey had propped up against the arm of the couch.

“Supposed to?”

Mike didn’t answer, just curled in on himself and shrugged. Harvey - disturbed, both with himself and whatever potential implications Mike’s words could hold – took a deep breath and summoned all the energy, rationale, and train of thought he had left at three o’clock in the morning.

“Listen, it’s late, you need to sleep. And so do I. Okay?”

Mike turned his head just enough to nod. “Sorry,” he repeated. This time his voice was hardly a whisper, tinged with shame but not necessarily regret.

Flustered, Harvey ran a hand through his own hair. “It’s…fine, Mike, just—just try to sleep.” He motioned toward Mike’s face. “Do you want an ice pack?”

There was a soft but certain “No,” so Harvey left it at that, turning off the light before heading into his room. He closed the door, feeling the last hour and a half settle onto his shoulders in a way he didn’t entirely understand just yet. It didn’t feel like a burden, not really, and it didn’t feel like obligation either. But it felt like _something_ and figuring out exactly what that was required far more concentration than Harvey had at this time of night. Especially when he could still feel the phantom tingle on his stomach where Mike’s lips had been.

 

*

At ten ‘til eight, Harvey woke up, aggressively turning off his alarm before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Last night flooded back to him and what had seemed like a relatively moderate lapse in judgment at the time, felt like a massive fuck up five hours later under the harsh light streaming in through the window. 

Wondering if the kid might have fled, Harvey wandered into the living room. But he found Mike right where he’d left him, curled up under a blanket on the couch. He was sound asleep, silent, and the most peaceful Harvey had seen him on any of their other encounters.

Harvey’s initial plan, when he realized Mike was in fact still there, was to shout for him to wake up. But something stopped him, incentivized him to go into the kitchen, start some coffee; rustle around and make some noise instead, maybe wake Mike more slowly. Harvey didn’t actually know anything about teenagers, apart from having been one which was – he winces – a long time ago, but he heard they could be dangerous creatures before noon, and it was probably best to tread lightly. Particularly around this one.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long. The clang of a coffee mug on the counter, a manufactured cough, the fridge shutting sharply – a few minutes of that and Mike was stirring, sitting up and looking around in suppressed awe and very apparent confusion. When his eyes finally found Harvey, he perked up, though it was hard to tell if it was from relief or nerves.

“Hi,” he said in a small voice.

Harvey rounded the counter, coffee in hand. Mike noticeably lifted his head at the smell of it, and Harvey widened his eyes. “You drink coffee?”

Mike shrugged. “Don’t sleep much.” He squinted and winced, and Harvey decided between a hangover, a bruised nose, and sleep deprivation, the kid deserved a coffee – and maybe some Advil, and that ice pack after all.

“Better?” he asked, after Mike was holding the pack in place with one hand and carefully sipping from his mug with the other.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Harvey stood, just drinking his own coffee and observed for a minute or two. “Where do you go to school?” he finally asked. “And when?”

“I…” Mike hesitated. “I don’t have classes on Friday.”

“Oh, you’re adding truancy to your list?”

“My list?” he looked Harvey in the eyes with a spark of defiance. “Of what? All the ways you don’t approve of how I’m living my life?”

A little stunned, Harvey just stared. He probably should’ve seen it coming, though. He _had_ been a little condescending, and Mike had proven to have something of a spine at least part of the time, whether it required monumental effort or not.

“Sorry.” Mike’s apologies were constant, borderline obnoxious. But they were also genuine, as though he didn’t try to say or do the wrong thing, but he was young and his impulse control wasn’t one hundred percent developed and he already felt like he’d imposed enough on a virtual stranger. Too much so to probably be talking back, even if he _was_ right. “I really don’t have school today,” he explained. “I swear. I’m a senior so I only have four classes and... I take them Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.”

“You’re barely seventeen, you expect me to believe you graduate in six months?”

Mike looked quietly offended at the implication that he was a liar. “Seven months," he corrected. "And I skipped a year.”

“Hm.” Harvey frowned, studying him for the truth and not finding any evidence to the contrary. So far Mike had seemed to be almost brutally honest, and not all of it could have worked in his favor, so Harvey decided he had no reason to lie about this particular – and comparatively positive – fact. “Well, I need to shower and go to work and you…” Harvey paused and sighed. “You can’t stay here.”

“I know.” Mike looked down at his feet.

“What do you do on the days you don’t have class?”

“I’m usually at my friend’s house but his parents go upstate a lot so…if it’s cold I go to the shelter, sometimes, but I don’t like it there. Sometimes I just walk around. And the club opens at eleven so I can just go—”

“Well _that’s_ not gonna happen,” Harvey interrupted, exceedingly dumbfounded by Mike’s willingness to return to a place he literally injured himself at in order to leave. It drove home the despair of his situation, leaving Harvey to wonder what the hell _he_ was supposed to do now that he’d already gotten involved. If he wanted to, though, he could still wash his hands of it all. Kick Mike out, never go back to the strip club; move on like they’d never even met. He could tell himself he hadn’t felt a surge of anger and protectiveness at the sight of Mike’s bloody nose. He could lie and pretend he hadn’t gotten a rush of arousal just from the brief sensation of Mike’s mouth on his skin. He _could…_

But he couldn’t.

“Why?” Mike frowned. “Harvey, I have to, I—”

“That places scares the shit out of you, Mike!”

“It’s not—it’s not always like that, some…some nights it’s fine and I make a lot of money I can’t make anywhere else and I’ve already saved some and—”

“No. Consider yesterday your last shift. End of discussion.”

"You can't...you can't do that. You can't make me quit my job."

"I can't," Harvey agreed. "But the state of New York can. If I remember correctly, you have a year and a day left in the system and though you may have outsmarted it for a while now, _trust me,_  with one phone call I can change that real fast."

"No, no, please don't," Mike begged. "You don't know what it was like, I hated it, I'd rather-"

"Then get another job, for God's sake. One that recognizes the existence of child labor laws. And lets you wear clothes."

Mike stared past Harvey, towards the wall, but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. And then he burst into tears. “I promised. I promised, I promised, _I promised.”_ He looked up, distraught and sniffling. “Harvey, you _have_ to let me go to work! I promised—I promised my grandmother I wouldn’t let them move her, I can’t break—”

“I doubt she expects you to come up with twenty-five grand, Mike. You’re sixteen.”

“She’s…” Mike gasped for air. “She doesn’t…she doesn’t remember that all the time. She forgets...she forgets my parents are d-dead, I let her think they’re not, y’know, I don’t wanna make her sad. But she doesn’t forget when I make a promise…oh, god—”

“When is it due?” Harvey asked, hoping if he spoke loud enough, the crying might stop. He didn’t know how to deal with this level of hysteria and it both upset and annoyed him.

“W-what?”

“The money, Mike. When do you need it by?”

Mike took several seconds to compose himself before responding. “Six weeks.”

“Alright,” Harvey announced, pacing in a small box. He knew Mike was fighting a losing battle. Even if it was humanly possible to work five jobs at once, he could never come up with that sum of money in such a short amount of time. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Today, you worry about today, not six weeks from now—”

“But—”

“Shut up.”

Mike complied quickly.

“I have to take a shower,” Harvey continued. “Put your jeans on. I’ll find you a clean shirt when I’m done.”

“I have to leave, right?”

 _“We_ have to leave.”

“Where are we going?”

“I told you, I have to work.”

“And…I’m going with you?” Mike asked, skeptical, but with a shred of hope.

“Well, I’m not leaving you here alone and I _could_ throw you out on the streets but according to my phone, it’s forty-two degrees out. So unless you want to roam the city in the cold or go to the shelter, you can come with me. But only today. Final offer.”

Mike gave him a rapid nod.

“Okay then,” Harvey said, though he was already feeling the anxiety from his decision. What would Ted assume? What questions would Donna hurl his way? And for how long would Jessica yell at him, or would she just glower with disapproval until he felt terrible and guilty for nine days? He was already trying to think of ways to explain it; ways to downplay the whole thing or just hide Mike altogether from as many people as possible.

But the latter was unrealistic, especially when the only shirt Harvey could find that even remotely fit Mike was one of his old collegiate Harvard tees. He quickly decided that was a terrible idea, though; no need to announce to the firm that some kid had not only been in his condo, but had apparently been in his condo without a shirt. He eventually settled on a long-sleeved, plain grey one that was less of a dead giveaway but still looked more than a little suspicious the way it fell around Mike’s thin shoulders and the sleeves rolled up his arms about ten times. That, with a sweatshirt over it, and it wasn’t even worth trying to explain.

Fuck it, Harvey thought, herding Mike out the door. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. He was a senior partner and an added benefit of that was being able to do (almost) whatever he wanted. This was one instance where he had to play that card.

 

*

Ray shot him a Look, which Harvey immediately interpreted as _What the hell?_

He returned his own, which was code for _Don’t ask,_ and the rest of the ride was quiet. He read the New York Times and Mike sat stiffly on the other side of the seat, not taking his eyes off the window until they’d come to a stop outside the firm. Harvey had to literally snap his fingers to break Mike’s daze.

“You coming or what?”

“Y-yeah, yeah.” He scrambled across the seat and out onto the sidewalk. “Sorry.”

“Listen up,” Harvey told him, strolling toward a street vendor a few paces away. “I’m about to tell you the ground rules.”

“Rules?” Mike asked, following but craning his neck at the same time to gaze up at the building. This wasn’t a side of the city he often saw. It was cleaner, livelier; the people looked shinier, happier – at least on the outside. It felt less like disappointment and more like opportunity.

Harvey nodded, pulling out his wallet. “One, don’t talk to anyone about anything unless I say it’s okay. You don’t have to tell them who you are – it’s none of their business. I have a deposition today and I can’t bring you with me, so two, don’t touch anything in my office when I’m gone. Especially not my vinyl—Mike!”

“Huh, sorry, what?” Mike tore his concentration off the entrance of the firm to meet unimpressed brown eyes.

“Did you even listen to anything I just said?”

“Yes.”

Unconvinced, but too exasperated to repeat himself, Harvey just sighed and added, “I’ll find you something to do. And last but not least, if you decide to venture off on your own again, be my guest. But I’m telling you, you’re luck is gonna run out if you go back to that place.”

It seemed like Mike was finally soaking up the words, but then Harvey noticed he was actually on his tiptoes, paying more attention to the bagel the vendor was preparing, and the two foam cups of coffee – one for Ted, of course – being set on the ledge.

It occurred to Harvey that he had no idea when the last time Mike had probably eaten, but that it could’ve been a day ago, or two, or even three, and that those gaps in nutrition were likely common if the way his sharp, jutting collarbone above Harvey’s shirt was any indication.

“You hungry?”

Mike glanced at Harvey, a little spooked, like he hadn’t meant to be so obvious. He looked down at his shoes and nodded.

Harvey took a deep breath, handed the man cash and said, “Make that two.”

Just as Mike was closing his eyes briefly in gratitude, Ted walked up behind Harvey, clapping him on the shoulder and accepting the cup of coffee being handed to him. They had this routine down to an art; had for years, and it was evident. But today, when Ted took a sip from his cup and proceeded to open his mouth, the sight of Mike lingering a yard away stopped him cold. He turned to Harvey, eyes wide, voice hushed.

“Are you _insane,_ Harvey?’

Harvey knew he was, a little, had to be if he’d really shown up to work with a stray street kid stripper. But he still tried to mitigate the situation, keep his voice even, hoping if he stayed calm, so would everyone else. “Don’t make a big deal of it, Ted.”

“How is this not a big deal?” Ted couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be genuinely concerned. After all, there weren’t a lot of things he took too seriously, but their careers were an exception. “You literally brought your—” he leaned in against Harvey’s ear “— _illegal_ exploits to the firm. Literally. Like, he’s here, with you, about to be in there,” He paused to point toward the entrance. “—with us and a dozen other partners, including Jessica. And worst of all, Donna. Harvey, she heard us talking the other day. She will rip you apart for the truth—”

“Look, he didn’t have anywhere to go, alright?” Harvey interrupted, holding up his hands for emphasis, though it just looked a little ridiculous with coffee in one and a paper bag in the other. “And weren’t you the one who didn’t care? Said ‘go for it’?”

“Yeah, I don’t and I did. I just didn’t think you’d make a show and tell day out of the proof.”

“It isn’t what you think, Ted.” Harvey lowered his voice, turning his back completely on Mike. “I didn’t fuck him,” he whispered. “I just let him crash on the couch.”

“I believe you, Harvey. But you took him in, you’re bringing him to work, and…” Ted eyed the bag in Harvey’s hands. “…you just bought him food, didn’t you? Do I even know you? Whose soul did you steal? And do they have a spare one for me?”

Harvey almost smiled at that, would have completely if the situation was less tedious, less risky. “It’s just for today.”

“What happens after today?”

“I know, I know,” he conceded, because Ted knew him better than anyone, better than Jessica and even Donna, and it was out of left field for him care about anyone for more than ten minutes except the three of them and himself. “I’ll figure it out. No one will even know he’s here.”

Ted raised an eyebrow. “He’s skinny, Harvey, but he’s not Hollow Man. Jessica sees him, she’ll set your office on fire. With you in it.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “He’s good, alright, he’s not gonna cause any problems,” He turned around. “Mike, come here.”

Mike skittered over, avoiding Ted’s stare.

“Do you remember _anything_ I told you after we got here?” 

“Yeah.”

Doubtful, Harvey decided to give him a shot anyway, thinking if Mike could remember at least one of the rules he’d rattled off, Ted might tone down the career panic. “Go ahead, then.”

Mike was quiet for a few seconds, then he straightened up a little. “One, I’m not allowed to talk to anyone unless you give me permission to, because it’s none of their business who I am, but I’m pretty sure what you meant was ‘shut up and don’t tell anyone you’re a stripper’.  Two, you have a deposition today and I can’t touch your records while you’re gone – they sound really important –”

He paused, Harvey and Ted just staring, before taking a deep breath and going on, “You won’t stop me if I try to leave – and you can’t decide if you want me to or not, because on one hand you regret meeting me and I’m, like, a really big inconvenience, but on the other, you still want to fuck me—”

Harvey’s eyes went wide at that, his palm covering his face.

“Oh,” Mike shrugged as though it were an afterthought. “And if I go back to the club and something bad happens, I had it coming.”

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey muttered, unsure if he should be impressed – both by Mike’s memory, succinct delivery of it, or terrified by these intermittent bursts of audacity. Not wanting to take any chances, at least for now, he shoved the bag of food into Mike’s hands. “Eat this and be quiet.”

Ted checked the time on his watch, “Unfortunately for me, I have to go meet with Louis before our deposition.” He nodded toward Mike and smirked. “Good luck with this one, Harvey.”

He turned away with a wink, slinking into the building and leaving them on the sidewalk.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Mike asked, between slightly ravenous mouthfuls.

Harvey felt a sip of coffee go right down his windpipe. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he coughed. “But no.”

“He acts like it. I think you two have definitely—”

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to chew with your mouth open?”

Mike shook his head, suddenly self-conscious. “No.”

“Right. …Sorry.” Harvey mentally kicked himself. “Listen, I’m late now and I need to know if you can handle turning off the sarcasm for ten hours.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s exactly what I just asked you not to do.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m serious, Mike, you have to be quiet today.” Harvey reached out and waved his hand in front of Mike’s mouth. “This has to stay closed. For now.”

Mike made a show of zipping his lips with his fingers, and then he was being pulled off the sidewalk and through the doors.

Inside the elevator, he fidgeted, eyes flitting here and there, kicking the toe of his sneaker on the floor over and over like it was a frustratingly inadequate substitute for speaking. Harvey tried to tune out the constant _tap tap tap_ , but by the eleventh floor, it was wearing a hole in his brain – and his patience.

 _“What,_ Mike?”

“Can I just say one more thing?”

Harvey raised his coffee and took a sip, sighing in defeat. “Make it good, because after this you’ve reached your quota.” 

Clutching the bag of remaining food in one hand, Mike silently wondered when another acceptable opportunity to eat might arise, since he was still hungry. But less hungry than before, and he swore he could _feel_ his blood sugar rising to a normal level. With his other arm, he tugged the oversized sweatshirt a little tighter around himself. It was the warmest thing he'd worn so far this winter. 

"So," Harvey took a sip from his cup and looked over at Mike. “What did you want to say?”

Mike looked up. "Thank you."

 

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. RL's been...unforgiving :/ Thank you for the comments and kudos! <3 **Please read the tags/warnings,** as I've added new ones.

*

 

Aside from a couple curious glances from people who didn’t particularly matter, Harvey was able to smuggle Mike into his office without much ado. Getting past Donna, however, was a little more difficult. As a preemptive strike, Harvey leaned over her desk before she had a chance to speak.

“Listen,” he said. “I need to ask a favor.”

Donna looked suspiciously from him to Mike and back again. “And I need to ask eleven million questions starting with, _who the hell is this kid_ and ending with… _why the hell is he wearing your clothes?”_

Sighing at her histrionics, Harvey pointed sharply to the door and Mike took the hint, scurrying into the office and out of earshot. “Donna, I’ll explain later.”

“Explain now.”

Harvey knew he wouldn’t survive the day without giving her at least a condensed, sugarcoated version of the truth but at the moment, he just didn’t have the time. “Donna, I can’t.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with what you and Ted were talking about on Tuesday.”

“Okay. This has nothing to do with what Ted and I were talking about on Tuesday. Now, I need you to keep Jessica out of my office.”

“Oh, okay,” Donna smiled sweetly before her face quickly sobered. “And after that would you like me to heal the blind?”

Harvey had already turned his back, looking over his shoulder to snap, “I don’t care how you do it, just do it alright?” He squeezed his eyes shut almost immediately in regret. “I’m sorry. Donna, I just really—”

“This isn’t Louis we’re talking about, Harvey. I can’t just do my _Dawson_ impression and expect Jessica Pearson to turn on a Louboutin and leave.”

“I know that, but—”

“But I’ll do my best.”

Harvey gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Harvey?” Donna called, before he had the chance to fully open the door to his office. “Don’t think I won’t squeeze every last drop of information out of Ted if I have to.”

 

*

Harvey was studying nine pages of damages their client was claiming, and so far the first two hours had been uneventful; routine, even, aside from the fact that there was a teenager perched across the room on the couch, reading and re-reading the magazine he’d been given. Mike was being satisfyingly silent, and if Harvey couldn’t see him out of the corner of his eye, he might not even know he was there.

But eventually, and understandably, Mike got bored with the magazine and looked up. Noting Harvey’s expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Harvey replied. He hadn’t even realized he’d been frowning.

“What are you reading?”

“It’s just…” Distracted, Harvey turned the page and shrugged, trying to keep his answers succinct. “Client info for the case Ted and I are working.”

“What kind of case?” Mike asked curiously.

Sighing, Harvey decided to indulge him. “Antell Inc. is a technology group and one of their patents was stolen, software was launched and it made millions under a different company name.”

“So they’re suing for—”

“Well, patent infringement obviously. And our job is to get the software pulled from the shelves, get Antell Inc. back the profit from it.”

Mike shrugged. “Sounds easy.”

“One problem,” Harvey said. “Company who stole it – CorTemp – is being represented by the second best firm in the city.”

“Oh.” Mike thought for a second and added, “So are you stuck?”

“No, I’m not stuck.”

“You look a little stuck.”

“I don’t get stuck,” Harvey told him, meeting his eyes. But Mike stared back challengingly, not half as dumb as would probably be convenient, so Harvey eventually admitted, “It’s complicated,” and made a point of returning his attention back to work.

 

*

After what would’ve been a perfectly normal conversation with his colleague had progressed into Jessica turning to him with a predatory smile and asking _Does Pearson Phillips look like a daycare to you?_ Harvey flew up to Donna’s desk in a flurry of annoyance.

“You told Jessica Mike is our client’s son?” he asked, incredulous. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Donna grinned but didn’t look up, typing away, her eyes on the computer screen. “She put me on the spot, Harvey.”

“Yeah, well now when Jessica finds out Adam Antell doesn’t actually _have_ a son, I’m in the same situation I’m in now.”

“I bought you some time, Harvey. You’re _welcome.”_

“When I said ‘damage control’ I didn’t mean ‘dig me a deeper grave’,” Harvey grumbled. “I have enough on my plate as it is.”

Swiveling in her seat, Donna nodded into his office and smiled. “I’ll say.”

Through the glass, Harvey watched Mike pacing in a small line by the windows like a caged animal.

“Shit.”

“Hey, you owe me for that save!” Donna called, but Harvey was already disappearing through his door.

“Why are you doing that? Sit down,” he barked, jerking his head toward the couch. Mike sat quickly, looking up with inquisitive blue eyes.

“Did I get you in trouble with your boss?” he asked.

“No.”

Mike didn’t seem to buy Harvey’s answer, but he leaned back in his seat and didn’t push the matter.

If he was bored – and Harvey knew he was – he was doing a pretty impressive job of keeping himself entertained, at least in his head. But Harvey didn’t know how to keep a sixteen-year-old busy, so he just went back to work and hoped the kid could continue to bite his tongue in the corporate world for the rest of the day.

Around noon, Ted waltzed in, dark hair somehow professionally tousled; red tie snug against his collar. He forwent a greeting in lieu of striding up to the desk, snatching the files that were set off to one side, and crossed the room to take a seat on the couch.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked rhetorically, acknowledging Mike with a halfhearted nod. “Harvey, what’s the verdict? Is Antell getting everything they’re asking for?”

With a sigh, Harvey leaned back in his seat. “They better be, or we’re not doing our job right.”

“Twenty-two million,” Ted laughed, shaking his head. “I bet Louis is having a field day with this.”

“You mean eighty-eight.” Mike’s voice interrupted like a rebellious mouse, soft and cautious but with absolute certainty.

Harvey’s eyes flicked toward him instantly. “Excuse me?”

“Uh…well…CorTemp launched the software three months ago, but your client had a patent on it for at least a full year before it was stolen—page five, third paragraph—”

“Whoa, didn’t I tell you not to touch anything?”

“Um…you said don’t touch anything while you’re at the deposition…?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Mike,” Harvey hissed, standing up so quickly his chair rolled backwards. “I asked you not to touch anything and you did anyway and I’m pissed!”

“Harvey, he’s right—”

“Ted, shut up.”

“No, really, Harvey, the kid’s right. Look.”

Harvey stalked across the room and snatched the file from Ted. His eyes followed the print for a few seconds and then, suspiciously, he glanced over the paper and down at Mike. “Continue,” he growled.

Mike took a quick, nervous breath, “So…CorTemp isn’t only responsible for paying back the profit they made,” he explained. “But any potential revenue that could’ve been generated in the additional nine months if your client had had a chance to distribute the software under its intended name. There’s no way to know exactly what the numbers would have been for Antell, but you…uh, you can estimate it based on the twenty-two million in profits made by CorTemp in the last three months. Twenty-two million divided by three is seven point three, times one year is eighty-eight million.”

Beside him, Ted looked up at Harvey’s open mouth and did everything he could to stifle a laugh.

 

*

“I left him alone for ten minutes, Ted.” Harvey was pacing the length of Ted’s office just after four p.m., palm on his face in distress. “Ten minutes! He read nine pages in ten minutes. Found what neither of us or Louis could find in ten days.”

From his desk, Ted chuckled. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harvey. That kid isn’t just a pretty face.”

“No shit.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I have no idea. I mean, you should’ve seen me this morning, Ted. I didn’t even know how to wake him up for God’s sake.”

“Harvey, he’s he just a kid. He’s not an endangered species.” Ted shrugged and sat back in his seat. “Besides, from what I’ve seen so far, he’s brilliant and he’s harmless. But if you’re gonna cut him loose? Do it now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if you don’t want to become the single parent to a teenager, you can’t lead this kid on any longer. Plus,” Ted sighed. “Do you really need the stress?”

Harvey shook his head and conceded, “It’s the last thing I need.”

He turned around toward the door about ten seconds too late, to find Mike standing just outside it, looking wounded, eyes darting back and forth between him and Ted.

“Mike—”

“Um, your secretary sent me to tell you that the, uh, client is in your office…” Mike’s voice was quiet, his face sullen. He didn’t wait for Harvey to reply before he turned around and slinked off.

Harvey watched him leave, feeling suddenly flighty when he realized Mike wasn’t heading in the direction of his office – but toward the elevators.

With a low, muttered _“Fuck,”_ Harvey rushed after him.

 

“Mike, stop!”

Mike didn’t though, didn’t even slow down. He was off the elevator and making quick work of the stretch of hallway leading toward the exit.

“I can take a hint, Harvey!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Where the hell are you gonna go? It’s fifteen degrees outside!”

“I’ll go to the shelter!”

“You won’t make it there alive in this weather!” Harvey barked, struggling to catch up.

“I’ll take my chances!”

“You’re smarter than this, Mike, don’t be an idiot!”

Mike stopped and spun around. “Don’t be a dick!”

“I’m trying to _help_ you, Mike.” Harvey looked back at him in disbelief. “How the _hell_ does that make me a dick?”

“Because you don’t _want_ to help me, Harvey! You think you _have_ to. Because, I don’t know—” Mike tossed up his hands and shrugged. “I’m so fucking helpless on my own! Or you just feel obligated because somewhere under all this bullshit corporate law and your stupid shiny suit, you’re kind of decent!”

Harvey closed in on him enough to put one hand on his shoulder. “Mike,” he said calmly. “You’re gonna be cold and hungry in ten minutes and you’ll wish you—”

“You know what’s worse than being cold and hungry?” Mike interrupted. “Feeling like I’m a burden on someone. Because that’s…that’s all I’ve ever been. Foster homes, group homes…they all had me but none of them ever wanted me. I’d rather be on my own. It’s better than being lied to, better than trying to convince myself that somebody gives a shit.”

Crying in front of Harvey the first time had been embarrassing enough, and Mike decided doing it again would just be pathetic. So, on the verge of tears, he turned and walked swiftly out of the firm without looking back.

Harvey didn’t follow.            

 

*

It was seven-thirty and Harvey had accidentally made more than one serving size of cavatelli, which was strange since he was single, Ted wasn’t fucking him tonight, and he’d only mentored the orphan on a couple occasions, none of which had been particularly appropriate or groundbreaking. Essentially, no reason to have blindly cooked two meals, and yet, here he was.

The rest of the day after Mike had stormed out in a tornado of self-pity had gone on normally for Harvey, business as usual. Adam Antell’s company altered their request for twenty-two million dollars to eighty-eight million and Harvey, Jessica, Ted, and Louis all watched the CEO of CorTemp turn pale as a ghost.

When Jessica gave Harvey a nod that was code for _well done,_ he took it with measured satisfaction. There was no way to credit Mike for the breakthrough without getting a swarm of people – namely himself – in trouble.

That had been the only time Harvey had particularly thought about Mike until he’d gotten home. Now the past two hours since he’d walked in the door, shed his jacket, loosened his tie, and started the slow, cathartic process of cooking had been tinged with a strange feeling of anxiety and concern.

He was stirring in sauce, slow heat, on the stove, telling himself Mike was at the shelter. Cramped and uncomfortable and alone, but alive. And he wondered why he cared at all, why he’d gone from lusting after a kid in a strip club to being suddenly so distracted with worry that he nearly dropped a dish onto the floor.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, just managing to set the plate on the counter when there were a series of quick, frantic knocks on the door.

Even after his typically-deadbeat conscience had guilt-tripped him into wondering if maybe he could’ve done a little more than just chase Mike into the lobby, Harvey still didn’t suspect the kid would come back. It was too cold for Mike to have wandered around the city all afternoon, let alone find his way back to a place he’d been to only once, and at night, for that matter.

But when he opened the door, he ultimately found a soaking wet teenager, dripping rain all over the hallway, glancing up once with shame-filled blue eyes, not making a sound but for the incessant chattering of teeth against teeth.

Harvey hoped that relief wasn’t registering too conspicuously on his own face as he ushered Mike inside. On one hand, he’d nearly been off the hook; hands washed of Mike Ross before they got too dirty. But on the other, the kid wasn’t dead of frostbite in an alley after all, and Harvey felt himself exhale.

He motioned for Mike to come inside, and after finding the kid a pair of sweatpants and a worn out Harvard tee, Harvey ushered him onto the couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

“Aside from the fact that your hair is literally covered in ice, why the change of heart?” Harvey asked, taking a seat across from him on the edge of the coffee table.

Mike didn’t respond for a few seconds, still trying to get his shivering under control. Eventually he admitted, “I know I said I’d rather b-be alone but I-I don’t. The shelter was f-full and I tr-tried to go to my f-friend’s but they—they…” His voice cracked and Harvey couldn’t tell for sure if it was Mike’s low body temp or impending emotion.

“They what, Mike?”

“They _left,”_ he gasped. “They m-moved upstate and—and their neighbor said they’re not coming back this time. We’ve…we’ve been friends since we were five and they—they didn’t even let me s-say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” Harvey said, trying his best to sound comforting. It wasn’t an area he excelled in. “Where the hell were you then?”

“I went to see my grandmother,” Mike explained. “But, uh, visiting hours stopped at six, so…”

“So you were just, what, sightseeing? In a blizzard?”

“I was trying to remember how to get here.” After a few seconds of silence, Mike looked down at his lap, adding, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me here.”

Harvey sighed, putting his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I want you here. Okay?”

Shy and a little weak, Mike smiled. “That’s not how most of the lies sounded.”

“Well, it’s not a lie.” Harvey slid his hand up to Mike’s icy neck. His hand was warm and Mike eagerly leaned into it, desperate for the heat.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

It was too complicated a question, and Harvey ignored it. Frankly, he wasn’t so sure he _was_ being nice. Hell, Mike had already called him out on his motives a few times. So it was much simpler not to say anything, to just continue stroking Mike’s neck, squeezing every now and then, watching him relax under the touch and look back in appreciation like an abandoned cat no one had bothered to pet in ten years.

Harvey regarded him for another minute or so, continuing to massage the muscle of his neck, the bony place at his shoulder, until Mike’s skin started to heat up to an acceptable temperature.

Suddenly, Mike half-lunged, lips crashing against Harvey’s mouth. With as much composure as he could manage, Harvey put a hand on Mike’s blanket-covered chest and guided him back.

“I turn seventeen in two hours, Harvey,” Mike huffed in frustration. “Come _on.”_

“That means nothing to me, Mike.”

“Yes it does. It means I’m legal. I memorized all the statutes ‘cause I read them once at the library.”

“Legal to sleep with someone up to age twenty-five. I guess you don’t remember everything you read, kid, huh?”

“They changed it then,” Mike insisted. He reached out and took Harvey’s hand, replacing it on his neck, urging Harvey to touch him again. “You like it.”

“What?”

“You like it, you said yourself, at the club, you weren’t trying to see if I was eighteen. You were trying to see if I wasn’t. You _like_ it.”

Harvey breathed sharply through his nose while Mike moved closer, still babbling on.

“Come on, please, I’m so cold and you’re so warm.”

“Mike.” Harvey tired to sound stern but his voice came out just this side of wrecked. “Why do you want this?”

His face burrowed in Harvey’s neck, Mike’s reply was muffled. “You’re nice to me.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“You’re hot.”

“That’s—” Harvey almost laughed, but then he felt hot breath on his neck and froze. “That’s a terrible reason.”

“I like you,” Mike persisted, wriggling his hands free from under the blanket and winding them around Harvey chest. “You helped me. I owe you.”

Harvey didn’t like the sound of that. He grabbed Mike by one arm and peeled him off, letting go so he could use two fingers tilt his chin up. “How many people have you owed, Mike?”

“None,” Mike answered quickly, maybe too quickly. “No one ever helped me before.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Mike,” Harvey warned, pushing him back again, this time far enough to look in his eyes.

But Mike was staring up, cheeky grin in place, and said, “Neither do you.”

Harvey regarded him for another moment and then, feeling his resolve crumbling, he stood up on shaky legs and headed into the kitchen for a generous glass of scotch. He mentally awarded himself a trophy of self-restraint, although he had a feeling it was premature. 

Ted’s advice flooded back to him.

_If you’re gonna cut him loose, do it now._

_Do you really need the stress?_

He downed the glass quickly, wincing only a little at the burn and then pouring a refill.

“Are you hungry?” he called, turning to face the living room where Mike was still curled on the couch, blanket pulled back around his thin body.

“Um…yeah?”

“You asking me or telling me?”

Mike looked ashamed, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to tell the truth. “I am,” he mumbled, only just loud enough to be heard. “But you don’t…you don’t have to…”

“Relax, kid.” Harvey began to dish out servings of food on two separate plates. “I already cooked before you showed up at my door like something out of _Homeward Bound.”_

 _“Homeward_ what?” Mike asked, getting to his feet.

 “It’s a movie,” Harvey explained, but Mike just stared blankly at him. “The dog, the…it came out in 199—oh, Jesus Christ.” He pointed to the dinner table and sighed. “Just sit down.”

Mike complied, watching Harvey’s every move as he set down a plate of food in front of their respective seats.

“You can eat, Mike.” Harvey motioned toward the plate. He was on his third glass of scotch and trying to pace himself, but his nerves were alight and he couldn’t shake the feeling of Mike’s breath against his neck. But if he thought getting drunk would increase his willpower, he was slowly finding out just how wrong he was.

“Thanks,” Mike murmured, picking up a fork. He started out eating slowly, taking dignified bites because he was fully aware of Harvey’s eyes burning a hole into his face. But from there it devolved into something less polite and more ravenous, like he thought he was reaching the end of Harvey’s generosity and the plate in front of him might be jerked away any second.

Harvey ate his own food with grace, without the fervor of someone who hadn’t eaten in twelve hours and probably went without for much longer periods of time before that.

He didn’t comment on Mike’s food issues and the kid seemed grateful for it.

Once they were finished, Harvey cleared the plates, topped off his whisky and returned to take a seat at the table again.

Mike was downing his glass of water, but blue eyes flicked intermittently toward Harvey’s drink.

Feeling the liquor tempering any remaining reservations he had about what was right and wrong, Harvey slid the half-full glass across the table and asked, “You want it?”

“It smells awful,” Mike said, lifting the edge to his nose and frowning. Eventually, he tipped it back, taking a much bigger gulp than he intended, and promptly coughing and sputtering and gagging at the taste.

Harvey laughed. “It’s scotch, Mike, not soda. You sip it. Slowly.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh.”_ He watched with slightly-predatory satisfaction as Mike started to drink the liquor more slowly, still grimacing at the burn when he swallowed. “Have you warmed up?”

Mike nodded. “Are you…” he glanced away.

“Am I what?”

“I dunno. Mad. Because I…”

Harvey shook his head.

“I, uh,” Mike took a shaky breath. “I’m going back to the club tomorrow. I need—”

Harvey’s face sobered, transforming from calm interest to cold disapproval in a blink. “No you’re not.”

“I have to.”

“Mike, if you wanted to be anywhere near that place, you’d already be there. Instead you’re here, waiting for me to talk you out of it.”

“I don’t want to be there, I _have_ to. I need the money and—and I can’t get it anywhere else, not fast enough.”

“Fine.” Harvey tossed up his hands. “You wanna throw your life away on a pole, go for it. But don’t pretend you’re not dying for me to give you an easy way out.”

Mike winced. “I’m not—I’ve _never_ had an easy way out. I just don’t want you to tell, that I ran away. I don’t wanna go back in the system. You have to promise—”

“I don’t have to promise shit, kid.” Harvey nodded toward the glass Mike still had one hand around. “Finish your drink.”

Mike stared at was left of the amber liquid. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s too strong.”

“And I don’t like it going to waste,” Harvey told him. “Drink it,” he ordered. “And then we’re gonna talk about what happened in my office today.”

“What?”

“You know what. You found a sixty-six million dollar mistake in ten minutes and I want to know how.”

With a little nausea, Mike choked down the rest of the liquor, blinking at the headache he could already feel descending on his skull. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I just…I like to read. I like to figure things out. I don’t really try to—”

Harvey raised an eyebrow, “So you have genius breakthroughs with no effort at all?”

“I guess?”

“Try again.”

Flustered, Mike ran a hand over his face. “Once I read something, I never forget it. So I remembered all the dates and the profits and then when I kept reading I realized it didn’t add up...”

“You have a photographic memory?”

“It’s not really…photographic…it’s….”

“You don’t have to see it,” Harvey realized. “You remembered all my rules this morning after hearing them once while you were staring up at the building like _Alice in Wonderland.”_

“Yeah.”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

Mike scoffed. “I don’t really use it.”

“You should.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes. Mike didn’t know how to respond since high school hardly required him to use a quarter of his brain, if that. So he just fidgeted with his empty glass and felt dizzy. Finally, Harvey stood up, walked around the table and put his hands on his shoulders.

“Stand up.”

Mike got to his feet and turned around, instinctively leaning forward but prepared to be pushed away again.

But Harvey felt lax and completely indifferent to consequence; the whisky had him drenched in a wonderful haze of not giving a fuck that he should probably steer Mike back to the couch and leave him there, instead of letting him burrow his face into his shoulder for the second time in an hour.

He ran his hand through Mike’s still-damp hair and breathed in sharply. “You’re such a little cock tease, Mike,” he whispered, and he swore he felt the faintest smile against his skin.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. What is it you want, huh?”

Mike responded by sliding his arms around Harvey’s waist and saying, quietly, “Touch.”

“You want to be touched?”

“Uh huh.”

“Touched or fucked?”

Tightening his grip, Mike just pressed his face into Harvey a little harder, hoping the man would return the embrace. He couldn’t quite remember what it felt like to be hugged. But Harvey’s hands were sliding decidedly lower, lips pressing up against Mike’s ear.

“You know what I want, right?”

Mike nodded against him.

“Good.” Harvey tugged on the corners of the shirt Mike was practically drowning in, lifting it up until Mike had to step back in order for it to come off.

“What about—”

“What about what?”

“If I go back to the club—”

Harvey hooked one finger under Mike’s chin and lifted his head. “We’re gonna talk about that another time,” he said, and then closed the gap between them, pressing his lips gently to Mike’s, but firmly enough to seal off any impending reply.

He ran his hands down the side of Mike’s torso and sighed when Mike leaned in again. “You have a big mouth sometimes, Mike,” he whispered. “Are you gonna be able to keep it shut about this?”

Another nod, and then Mike was looking back as if waiting for instruction. And Harvey had a long list of things he wanted to tell the boy to do, but he was momentarily rendered speechless by big blue eyes, and his head was swimming with so many fantasies that it left little room for any guilt.

“Starting to think you’re all talk, Mike,” he mused, bringing one hand up to cup Mike’s jaw. “And not even much of that right now. Not that I’m complaining.” He smirked. “But you’re significantly less eager to start shit when you don’t have all your clothes on.”

Even though Harvey should’ve been prepared for it – the kid had been dropping bombshells since day one – he wasn’t. It still knocked him off-kilter when Mike’s eyes focused on his, a hazy innocence darkening into lust and a bit of petulance at Harvey’s accusation, like it had been more of an insult than an observation.

“Up until you decided to dictate my life under the threat of turning me back over to a corrupt system,” Mike began, voice soft but just as certain as it had been in the office that afternoon. “—Very corporate lawyer of you, by the way—I was making money without my clothes on. So,” he paused, one clever hand finding the buckle on Harvey’s belt. “Come _on.”_

“That’s…” Harvey watched Mike’s hand and licked his own lips. “Specific,” he finished sarcastically.

“You’re not exactly king of specificity,” Mike countered.

“Big word for a teenager. Cite your sources.”

“You got pissed I touched your case file today but you never explicitly said I couldn’t.”

“Ends justified the means,” Harvey said. “And I told you not to touch _anything.”_

“While you were at the deposition. Not when you left for coffee or to talk to your boss.”

“Semantics.”

“Semantics are loopholes,” Mike insisted. “You left yourself open to, like, a shitload of liability.”

“A shitload, huh?”

Mike nodded.

“Well,” Harvey sighed, and his tone shifted from gentle to borderline cold again. As amusing as it was to be one-upped by a sixteen-year-old, it was equally infuriating. “I guess in the future I can avoid that liability by not taking a runaway to work with me.”

“I’m not a runaway,” Mike snapped. “You have to have someplace to run away from.”

Harvey had intended to hit a nerve with his comment, he just didn’t expect to feel bad about it. “That was…I didn’t mean that,” he whispered, taking a hold of Mike’s wrists and pulling him in the direction of the bedroom. “Come on.”

*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this took FOREVER. Anyway, this chapter and the next one are pretty much 99% angst.

*

 

Eight ‘o clock sun was the kind of light Harvey did _not_  want shined on the situation. Mike was curled up beside him – no, no, _against him –_ and looked painfully his age. Not that he’d ever particularly looked any older, but even Harvey’s justification that Mike was wise beyond his years now sounded ridiculous and self-serving.

Disentangling himself from the sleeping teenager, Harvey took a deep breath and got out of bed, raking his hands over his face like doing so would scrape away some of the guilt that was quickly settling onto his shoulders.

He took a shower – a cold one – kept his hands to himself, got dressed, and puttered around the kitchen making breakfast and quietly cursing his decision making.

Mike was the physical manifestation of all Harvey’s fantasies, except until now, that’s all they’d been. And they’d never actually been under eighteen, despite Jessica and Ted’s jabs.

He’d held out for weeks, but then with a steady amount of liquor in his veins, and Mike’s smart mouth going on and on about something even Harvey wasn’t smart enough to keep up with, and any resolved he’d had left had completely disintegrated. Night time had also provided some kind of illusion that consequences were merely a possibility, not a guarantee.

And Harvey had never struggled with his conscience. He’d wanted to fuck Mike within ninety seconds of seeing him, so when it finally happened he couldn’t have cared less about the ramifications of what he was doing if he’d tried.

But now it was the morning after, nearing nine o’clock, far later than any of Harvey’s conquests typically stayed. And what happened was coming back to him in full detail, even things that he hadn’t noticed at the time, or had just chosen to ignore.

He took a long drink of coffee and just stared, dazed, at the counter until the toast burned, and then in his haste to salvage it, knocked the half-full coffee pot onto the tile. It shattered, some of the liquid hitting his barefeet and making him cringe.

_“Fuck!”_ he shouted. “God damn it.”

Irritated, Harvey reached for the paper towels, right about the time he heard a quiet voice across the room saying his name.

Mike was wandering toward the kitchen, nothing on except the too-big boxers Harvey had loaned him, which were rolled over about five times and still sagging. His hair was a mess, which Harvey _really_ wished was just from sleep, but knew was more likely from the way he’d pulled on it all night.

“Hey.” Mike sounded sleepy, and he rubbed his eyes like a little kid and Harvey hated himself a little more.

“Hey,” he replied, because he didn’t trust himself not to say anything else. Something unfair like, _You need to leave,_ or something completely insane like, _Get back in my bed._

Mike’s face turned to concern when he walked in and saw the glass that Harvey was carefully navigating around “Whoa, what happened?”

“I was bored,” Harvey told him. “What does it look like happened, genius?”

It was meant to be a joke, but Mike just went quiet, and admittedly Harvey knew he’d sounded annoyed. He sighed. “Look, Mike, just...go sit down.”

“I can help,” Mike offered instead.

Harvey shook his head. “I think I can handle this, kid. Come on, move before you get cut.”  He placed his palm on the back of Mike’s neck, which was actually intended as a completely innocent gesture, but feeling the warm, bare skin under his hand and Harvey freaked again. He quickly removed it and then motioned for Mike to sit on the other side of the counter.

He cleaned up all the coffee and glass and went searching for another pot. But once more coffee was brewing, there wasn’t anything else Harvey could do to ignore the fact that there was still a teenager staring at him. At some point he had to deal with the situation, and apparently that point was now.

“You hungry?” Harvey asked, and he knew it was a stupid question -- of _course_ the kid was hungry, he _looked_ hungry -- but Harvey also had reason to believe Mike would never actually ask for food.

So when he nodded, Harvey was already halfway to the fridge.

“You like cereal?”

In his peripheral vision, he could see Mike nod rapidly. So he pulled out some milk, a bowl, a spoon, and then opened up a cabinet and pointed.

“What kind, kid?”

Mike stared for a few seconds and then looked back at Harvey. “Anything. I don’t care.”

Sighing, Harvey grabbed a box that looked relatively less healthy than the others; something with enough sugar that it was more closely related to something a kid would probably eat. But Mike genuinely didn’t seem very picky, so ultimately Harvey figured it didn’t matter.

After setting everything down, Harvey returned to the toaster to attempt to make his own breakfast again. A few minutes passed before he realized that Mike hadn’t touched his food -- was just staring at the box like it was a trick -- like the instant he reached for it, someone might take it back.

“Mike?”

Mike looked up, a little confused.

“You need me to pour it for you too?”

“N-no.”

“Then eat.” He gave Mike a small smile because so far that had seemed to put Mike at ease every time. “It’s okay. Okay?”

Eventually, Mike nodded and reached for the box, and Harvey busied himself with _not_ burning the toast or his feet this time.

Mike ate quietly several feet away, making an effort to pace himself so it didn’t look like he was making up for a sixteen-year hunger strike with one meal. But Harvey could see the ridiculous amount of effort that went into that, even just by the way Mike was tightly gripping his spoon.

But Harvey had no idea how to deal with that and figured it was better left to professionals. Besides, he had a much bigger problem to confront at the moment, and while silently trying to figure out _how_ to deal with it, he decided to pass the time by starting a relatively normal conversation.

“How...uh…” _Great start, Harvey,_ he thought. “How do you usually celebrate your birthday?”

Mike swallowed a mouthful of cereal and shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Never?”

“One time my friends’ parents threw a party for me but...that was a long time ago. And they’re gone now, so…”

“Right,” Harvey sighed. “Well...is there anything you want? Anything you want to do?”

“Besides keep my grandmother from getting moved to one of the worst nursing facilities in the metro area…” Mike paused and shook his head. “Nope, not really.”

Harvey didn’t have to study the kid’s face very long to know it was a lie. It might be what Mike wanted _most,_ but there was a slew of things that he’d needed and never gotten -- food, for one -- so Harvey understood why he wouldn’t ask for anything that he merely _wanted._

And even though Harvey knew that making more promises was the last thing he should do, he couldn’t help but feel bad. He took a bite of toast and said, “There must be something else you want.”

Mike didn’t answer for a few minutes and Harvey had about given up when he heard a quiet, “College,” murmured from across the counter.

“What?”

“I want to go to college.”

Harvey studied him for a few seconds and then nodded. “That’s great, Mike You’re brilliant, you _should_ go to college. You could take your pick, they’d fight over you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I…I can’t go. It’s too expensive.”

“Mike, the state of New York will pay your tuition. They have to.”

Mike shook his head sadly.“They won’t now because I ran away twice. And they notified my school the first time, so I’m not eligible for any scholarships even though I have straight A’s. I can’t apply for a student loan because I won’t be eighteen, and I don’t have a cosigner.”

Sighing, Harvey set his mug down with a light thud. “That’s all you what, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mike nodded. “Pretty stupid, right?”

“It’s not stupid. But you have time to figure it all out. I was thinking of something a little more right-now.”

Mike looked up fully, expression still hollow. “You don’t have to buy me something to shut me up. I’m not gonna tell anyone we had sex, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Harvey tensed immediately. “I didn’t think you were.”

“But you still think you can’t trust me, right?”

“Mike...I barely know you. You definitely don’t know me. I don’t think either one of us should be trusting anyone just yet.”

“Yeah, but when you look at me you still think wonder. Am I gonna steal something? Am I a pathological liar? A sociopath? Will I ever mature past age fifteen or did the system spit me out as a hopeless case?”

“I don’t look at you like that.”

“You are right now. Like I’m a loose cannon. Waiting for a reason to be pissed at you, so I can cry rape, get you in trouble because I’m mad and unstable.”

Harvey stared blankly. “And are you? Gonna do that?”

_“No,”_ Mike replied. “I just wish I didn’t always have to, I don’t know...prove I’m not awful. Every time someone finds out who I am they think the worst.”

He looked away and stared at the milk left in his bowl.

Harvey just watched for a second and then sighed, “Mike, you’re not awful, okay? Not even close.”

“I’m good?” Mike’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“Yeah, kid you’re good.”

“Was I...good last night?”

Harvey stopped, closed his eyes, pushed a dozen completely inappropriate memories out of his mind. “We’re not gonna talk about last night, okay?”

Mike stood up and laughed dryly. “Why? Was it a mistake?”

“Yeah, it was. Look, you need to go put some clothes on.”

“Why?”

Mike’s habit of responding to every order with a question made Harvey’s head hurt.

“Because...I said so.”

“Seriously?”

Harvey ignored him and tried to look somewhere else, but Mike was standing not far away, and his boxers had slid down even lower, and he’d made absolutely zero attempt to straighten his hair, and Harvey was hopeless but to stare.

Eventually he muttered, over the edge of his coffee cup, “Just go put some clothes on.”

Mike giggled. “Am I distracting you?”

“No.”

“I think I’m distracting you.”

“I think you’re a smartass.”

“I think you like it.”

Harvey breathed through his nose evenly, trying hard to pretend Mike wasn’t getting to him.

“I’m wearing more clothes than I was when we met.”

“Your point?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t even have any clothes to put on, anyway.”

“I’m gonna wash yours later. In the meantime, put on what I gave you last night.”

“Oh. What you ripped off me?”

_“Mike.”_

“Fine. Do you have any aspirin?”

Harvey frowned. “What do you need aspirin for?”

“I have a headache from the whiskey you made me drink.”

“I didn’t make you drink it.”

Mike rolled eye his. “I said I didn’t like it and you told me not to waste it, so...you kinda made me drink it.”

“Alright, okay, look,” Harvey took a deep breath. “I’ll get you some aspirin. But will you first... _please_...go put on some clothes?”

It pained Harvey so much to say _please_ but the situation was getting dire. Fortunately, Mike threw up his hands, nodded, and disappeared into the bedroom, grabbing his shirt from where Harvey had left it on the floor.

Alone, Harvey finished his coffee, ran his hand over his face and whispered, _“Fuck.”_

After a few minutes, he rummaged through a drawer until he found a bottle of Advil, then filled up a glass of water and headed toward his room.

Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed and so far, the only accomplishment he’d made was getting Harvey’s shirt on.

“Here,” Harvey said. He thought he was starting to figure Mike out, and decided he might be better off if he just didn’t mention the lack of pants. So he silently handed Mike the pills and the water.

When Mike handed him back the glass, Harvey set it on the bedside table. “What are you doing today?”

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You must have something to do.”

“I’ll probably go visit my grandmother.”

“And when’s that?”

“Three.”

“Okay. And what are you going to do until then?”

“I dunno. Can I go back to bed?”

Harvey pressed on his temple. “Mike, you can’t just hang out here all day.”

“Oh. Well if you’re kicking me out you could’ve just done it when I woke up.”

“I’m not kicking you out. But...I have stuff to do, and I can’t leave you here alone.”

“What stuff?”

“None of your business. Now if there’s anywhere you want to go, I can drop you off. But you gotta get dressed while the offer still stands.”

Mike didn’t reply, just look away like he was trying not to cry. Harvey felt bad, again, except it wasn’t tied to any of the guilt he felt. That seemed to be it’s own separate, ugly entity, but at the moment he just looked at Mike and felt really bad because the kid clearly couldn’t think of a single fucking place to go.

And...short of dropping him off at the pound, Harvey wasn’t exactly sure where to take him anyway.

“Alright,” he caved. “I’m going to the gym and then I have a meeting. If you want to hang out until I’m done with that, fine.”

Mike perked up. “Cool. So I can go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” Harvey told him. “But don’t--”

“Touch anything, I know, I know.” Mike crawled up the bed and flopped down in the pillows. “Relax. I’ll stay right here.”

Harvey tried to say _okay_ but the word got caught in his throat because Mike was smirking, and after that all Harvey could do was grab his gym clothes, change in the bathroom, and then hurry out the door before things got any more unacceptable.

 

*

As promised, when Harvey returned, Mike was still in his bed. Sound asleep, curled up in nearly a ball, face buried in one pillow, arm wrapped around another as if he’d never actually slept in a bed before.

Harvey hoped he could sneak past, take a quick shower, and head off to his meeting with Jessica without waking him, but he took about six steps into the room and Mike began to stir.

“Hi.”

Harvey just nodded at him, disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth. If he left the door open, that was an accident.

Mike got out of bed and manifested in the doorjamb because the kid had absolutely no concept of privacy. “How was the gym? You’re really sweaty.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Harvey said. He rinsed out his mouth and then grabbed a towel, drying off his face while Mike just stood and stared.

And then, boldly, as if he knew exactly what Harvey was about to do, he asked, “Can I take a shower?”

“After I take one,” Harvey said, and started to close the door, but not quite fast enough.

Mike slipped inside and took off his shirt. “I really wanna take one now.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Mike?”

“I’m doing what you’ve wanted me to do since you met me. I’m taking off my clothes.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you to put them _on_ about ten times now.”

When Mike reached down to push off his boxers, Harvey shoved the towel at him. “You know what? Go ahead. Take a shower. I’ll wait.”

He turned to walk away, lauding himself and his shredding but valiant willpower, but then Mike grabbed his arm.

“Come _on,_ ” he whined, looking hurt. “You fucked me, why won’t you take a shower with me?”

Harvey opened his mouth, but for once he was officially lost for words. He realized that he had no idea what this kid wanted. It wasn’t money, because as much as Mike needed it, he’d been adamant that Harvey not buy him anything, and on the occasions Harvey had paid for his food, Mike had seemed painfully ashamed and sorry. And it wasn’t sex, because he’d been obviously out of his depth the night before, letting Harvey take the lead, trying to please but having absolutely no actual idea what to do.

So Harvey was confused a shit, but it didn’t take any more begging for him to give in.

“Okay,” he breathed, giving Mike the all-clear to finish shoving off his shorts. Then he pulled off his own clothes, led the way into the shower, and turned the water on hot.

 

*

Harvey wasn’t sure what it said about him that, after his meeting with Jessica, he stopped at a cafe and ordered two lunches without even thinking about it. He told himself one was for Ted, even though they had no plans to see each other that day.

When he got home though, the condo was empty. It was too early for Mike to be visiting his grandmother, and Harvey could have sworn the kid wouldn’t have bailed on free lunch.

Then again, the last time Mike had felt like a burden, he’d fled Harvey’s office at warp speed into a blizzard. So maybe after spending the night and eating and showering, Mike felt like he’d overstayed his welcome and went off to wander the streets until visiting hours.

If that was the case, and Harvey was certain it was, then it meant Mike would probably show up again sometime around seven, cold and hungry and sorry. Harvey didn’t know how to break the cycle, but it was the weekend and he couldn’t be bother to think that hard.

 

Seven p.m. came and went, and then eight, and then nine, and still there were no desperate knocks on the door. Harvey knew he should be relieved. For the sake of his career and reputation, he shouldn’t _want_ Mike to show up, or come back, _ever._ But with every hour that passed, he felt more and more of a feeling build inside of him that could only be described as concern.

He thought back to the night before, but then stopped himself. He fast-forwarded to that morning, instead, back to the shower, where he’d somehow managed to not to touch Mike once. He’d only watched while Mike cleaned himself, and when Mike had reached up and touched his chest, Harvey had gently moved his hand away, rinsed off, and gotten out.

When he’d left for the meeting, Mike was back in his own clothes, clean, dry, and fed, and nothing -- except the obvious -- had seemed to be wrong. He’d looked ecstatic just to be allowed to stay, and when Harvey had told him that he could watch TV -- and that he’d bring them home food -- he'd thought Mike might pass out from all the humanity he was being handed.

As much as Mike may have felt like a burden, Harvey wasn’t convinced that could outweigh his despair. So the more time that passed without Mike showing up, the more worried Harvey became, and the more that worry started to snowball into... _panic?_

Admittedly, he had more than a few passing thoughts about the potential consequences of Mike telling. He knew he couldn’t blame him if he did, but the fallout would be devastating. But beyond that, Harvey discovered that more of his thoughts started to revolve around Mike’s welfare, and less around his own wrongdoing, as though he hadn't acknowledged the possibility of them being mutually inclusive.

And then around midnight, Harvey just knew.

He grabbed his keys and left.

 

*

Even though Harvey was sure he was right, actually _seeing_ Mike at the club again still surprised him a little. It was the _stupidest,_  riskiest, most irrational, decision Mike could possibly make and it wasn’t until Harvey reminded himself of Mike’s age that any of it sounded remotely understandable. Even then, he was still furious.

He strode up to the bar, where Mike was struggling to pick up about ten drinks with two hands.

“Might as well put those down, kid, because you’re leaving.”

Mike turned around, looking just as shocked to see Harvey. “What?”

“I said you’re leaving,” Harvey repeated, trying to talk over all of the music and laughter. “Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m working.”

_“Now, Mike.”_ Harvey grabbed his arm, only to have Mike jerk out of his grip.

“Leave me _alone!”_

He scowled at Harvey and then returned to precariously balancing a few shot glasses in one hand while picking up two beers with the other.

Struggling with his patience, Harvey carefully removed the drinks, set them on the bar, and then grabbed both of Mike’s wrists. He held them tight in one hand down by his waist, and with the other he cupped the back of Mike’s head, pulled him close enough to speak directly in his ear.

“You’re going to leave with me right now. This isn’t up for discussion.”

Mike’s voice was hardly more than a shaky whisper. “I’m gonna get fired, Harvey.”

“You’re gonna get fired either way because if you don’t come with me I’ll have this place shut down by sunrise.”

“Harvey, _please,_ I _need_ this money.”

“Mike, you have ten seconds to walk out the door before I _drag_ you out and physically _deliver_ you to CPS.” He let go of Mike’s wrists and gave him a gentle push. “Now _go.”_

Terrified by the prospect of getting lost in an insufficient, neglectful system, Mike hesitated for only a couple seconds before navigating his way through the crowd. He stopped short at the exit.

“I have to at least go get my clothes,” he said pitifully. Like the night Harvey met him, all Mike had on were a pair of glorified underwear.

“Where are they?”

“In the back in my locker.”

Harvey shook his head. “Nice try, kid.”

“But--”

“You can wear this for now,” Harvey told him, shrugging off his coat. He draped it over Mike’s shoulders and helped him put his arms through the sleeves, then opened the front door and ushered Mike outside.

 

*

Back in Harvey’s condo, pushing 1am, Mike was on the couch sobbing uncontrollably and Harvey had absolutely _no idea_  how to handle it. He paced and brought water and awkwardly rubbed his back, even yelled for Mike to shut up which inevitably backfired miserably and caused Mike to bury his face in the cushions and cry even harder.

He even contemplated calling Ted for help, but then quickly dismissed the idea because it was absolutely ridiculous and he may as well just call himself, since Ted would be equally in over his head.

At a loss for what else to do, Harvey took a seat and just waited it out. Eventually, Mike calmed down enough for Harvey to hear his own thoughts.

“Mike,” he said. “Look at me.”

“No,” came the muffled response. “I hate you.”

“That’s fine,” Harvey told him, trying to maneuver Mike into a sitting position. “You still have to look at me.”

“I don’t _wanna_ look at you!” Mike screamed. “You _threatened_ me!”

Harvey kept his cool. “I got you out of a bad situation,” he said quietly.

“I needed that job! I made like, eight hundred dollars before you forced me to leave and now I lost it!”

“Eight hundred--Mike, what the hell did you do to make eight hundred dollars in one night?”

Mike groaned, sniffled, and looked away. “What do you care.”

“Did you go in that room I told you not to go in?”

“I had to.”

A little dread and a little more unease coiled in Harvey’s stomach. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t fuck anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Mike looked up at Harvey’s expression and laughed bitterly through his tears. “God, you’re so uptight.”

“Mike, whatever they paid you to do was not--”

“I just had to watch.”

“Watch?”

“Yeah. You know, while they jerked off.” Mike shook his head. “Besides, _they_ were only _thinking_ about fucking me.”

Harvey didn’t say what he _really_  thinking, which was something like,  _You fucking brat, you practically begged me to fuck you._ He didn't, though, because that would surely put Mike back into a tailspin of anger and Harvey knew their lines of communication were tenuous, and if Mike wouldn't talk to him then they would never get anywhere.

So instead he just took a deep breath, and said, “Do you know how many times you’d have to ‘just watch’ to make twenty-five grand? Did you even _think_ about that? Even if you made 800 every night -- which isn’t guaranteed -- the club takes, what, seventy-five percent? Leaving you with about 200. You wanna go through this a hundred and twenty five times, Mike?”

“I can do the math, Harvey. I’m not an _idiot.”_

“No, you’re not. Which is why I don’t understand why you keep going back to that place.”

“Be _cause_ I need--”

“The money, I know,” Harvey sighed. He agonized over the situation for a few more minutes before adding, “Listen, if I promise to help you with that, will you promise not to go back there?”

Mike frowned, “Help?”

“With the money. But in the meantime, you cannot go back there.”

“I don’t wanna take your money.”

“Then don’t take it, Mike. But here’s the deal for tonight: you do not leave this building. If at any point you leave, I’ll be on the phone with CPS before you make it to the door.”

“What are you gonna tell them? You rescued me from a strip club, took me home and fucked me?”

Harvey stood up abruptly. “You wanna call my bluff, Mike? Go ahead. But I guarantee this can end with you in a foster home by Monday.”

“No, no, no, no,” Mike chanted, shaking his head. “No, Harvey.”

“Then I’m trying to give you another option here. If you want it, fine, if you don’t, just say so.”

“IwantitIwantitsorry.”

“Okay, then. Good.” Harvey motioned for him stand. “Get up so I can get you some blankets.”

He left Mike standing there, still wearing his jacket, and returned with two blankets, a pillow, and some real clothes. He doled those out first, handing Mike a pair of sweatpants and a longsleeve shirt.

While Mike changed, Harvey made the couch into a makeshift bed for the second time in a week. He was starting to forget who he was.

Once Mike was under the covers, Harvey looked down and asked, “All set?”

Mike burrowed into the pillow and nodded.

“Good.”

With that, Harvey walked away, turned off the living room light, and went to bed.

 

*

 

On Sunday, Harvey slept in for the first time in years, probably in denial that Mike was still asleep on his couch. When he went to the gym, Mike asked to tag along, and not having a good excuse not to let him, Harvey obliged him.

After that, Harvey took a shower -- alone -- and then sat at the table with his laptop, intent on making some headway with work, because that’s what Harvey specter did on weekends. Along with, apparently, babysitting, because every fifteen-minutes he was glancing up to make sure he could still see Mike, as if the kid might flee or stick a pair of scissors in an outlet. Honestly at this point, Harvey was trying to be prepared for anything.

But, just like all the times before when he thought he was finally learning what to expect; how to be at least one step ahead, Mike changed the game.

He was standing in front of a bookcase, just staring for a long time, until he finally looked over his shoulder at Harvey.

It only took a few seconds of intense staring for Harvey to bite. “What, Mike?”

“Can I read some of these?”

He frowned at the shelf Mike was pointing at, full of old law textbooks that he kept mostly out of sentimentality, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

“Mike, those are textbooks.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Alright.” Harvey made a _go-ahead_ gesture. “Go for it.”

He probably shouldn’t have been surprised when Mike pulled five of the thickest ones down and carried them to the coffee table. Harvey always knew almost immediately what people were thinking, what they wanted, what they’re plan was. But Mike was a puzzle he couldn’t solve and it was tugging him between confusion and insecurity and even a little aggravation.

After watching Mike curl up on the couch with an outdated _Corporate Law: Mergers, Contracts, and Corporate Control,_ Harvey went back to his work.

They’d settled with CorTemp two days ago, and thanks to Mike’s disturbing and extremely random brilliance, it had been a massive success instead of a massive fuck-up. Which, as Harvey looked over their new case, gave him an idea.

Probably not the best one, but definitely not his worst either.

  
*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! (I might possibly wrap things up in the next chapter. And I sorta have ideas for a fic in the same 'verse a couple years down the road...)
> 
> status quo: Harvey's selfish/manipulative but doesn't care/thinks he's helping, Mike's fucked up but probably not any worse off than he was before they met, Ted's jealous, and Donna's very suspicious.
> 
> **Rating change & also added some tags**

 

*

 

There was an unfamiliar weight on Harvey’s chest Monday morning, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to figure out what it was.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

Mike was clinging to him with one arm, the other tucked under a pillow, his face pressed firmly in between Harvey’s face and shoulder.

Harvey sighed. “Mike,” he hissed, shifting away. “What the hell are you doing?”

Mike just moaned something inaudible and rolled over.

“Why aren’t you on the couch where I left you?” Harvey asked, and then, inevitably, had to repeat himself two more times before Mike stirred.

“T’was cold,” Mike murmured. “You’re warm.”

“You need to get up, Mike.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to go to work, why do you think?”

Mike finally opened his eyes, rolled on to his back, and suddenly Harvey regretted that he’d ever sat up -- that now he was looking down into blue eyes that stared right back at him.

“Oh, right. So you can just...drop me off at Canal and Bowery, then..”

“What the hell are you gonna do under the bridge, Mike?”

“I dunno, isn’t that where people go to get rid of unwanted pets?”’

Harvey almost smiled at Mike’s pity party but in the end he just said, “I’ll make a note of that for later. Today, you’re coming into the office.”

“What?” Mike sat up so fast he almost hit Harvey with his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. Now hurry up, I can’t be late.”

“Cool. Are we taking a shower?”

“Separately.”

“Boring.”

“Do I need to go over the ground rules with you again?”

“Nope.”

“Right, your memory. Do I need to remind you that I’m dead serious? You can’t go looking through my work, Mike, okay, that’s in vio--violation of...so many....” Harvey couldn’t even finish his own sentence because the irony was eating him alive. He cleared his throat and started over.“Just...listen, I know it’s boring there but I need you to be quiet, and not touch anything, and...tough it out until I figure out what to do.”

“You mean until you decide what to do _with me?”_

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Harvey slid off the bed and outstretched his hand. “Come on. Get in the bathroom. I’ll leave you some clothes outside the door.”

 

*

 

This time, Harvey impressed even himself by sneaking Mike into his office unseen -- or at least, no one asked any questions, and Donna’s desk was vacant.

He’d agreed to let Mike bring books with him, and he only hoped that three was enough to keep him busy for the next eight to ten hours. Judging from how fast he’d seen the kid read, however, Harvey had doubts. 

He took off his coat, draped it over his chair, and watch, a little mesmerized, at how quickly Mike sat down and got lost in one of the thicker books.

“I need to go see Ted for a minute. Can I trust you not to talk to anyone?”

If Mike was offended, he hid it well. “Not even your secretary?”

Harvey raised an eyebrow. _“Especially_ not her.”

 

*

 

On the way to Ted’s office, Harvey’s search for Donna proved fruitless. He came into the doorway looking exasperated.

Ted heard a loud sigh and glanced up from his computer. “I didn’t take her,” he announced.

“How did you even--”

“You have a where’s-Donna-I-can’t-find-my-own-ass expression.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, entered the office and wandered toward one of the chairs in front of Ted’s desk.

“Louis stole her, didn’t he.”

“For the morning. He said something about ‘Norma has a dentist appointment’ and ‘Don’t bother us’.”

On a normal day -- such as one where Harvey wasn’t trying to harbor a teenager in his office -- he would be more irritated that Donna was working for Louis, mostly just because Louis irritated him in general. But today was different. Today it was actually a relief. Harvey needed more time to figure out how to respond to her inevitable slew of questions, and Louis was unknowingly buying him time. 

Ted’s voice cut in again. “Didn’t hear from you this weekend. Should I be jealous of Oliver Twist?”

Harvey rubbed his temple and winced. “I don’t know if jealous is the right word.”

“Harvey…what did you do?”

“I don’t know, Ted. What did we both want to do the second we laid eyes on the kid? I made him forget his goddamn name.”

Ted paused to close his computer, and then smirked. “Holy shit.”

“Don’t--” Harvey rolled his eyes. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, I know it’s not. And I’d be congratulating you if this was a one night stand. But you’re already neck deep in the humanitarian department and whether you planned on it or not, you can’t get out now. You’re stuck, Harvey.”

“I’m not stuck.”

“Oh, you’re stuck alright. Allow me to list the ways.  This kid so much as tells a single soul, you’re in cuffs and disbarred by sunrise, because you conveniently gave him your entire name, address, and place of employment. Even if he doesn’t, you threw him a life raft, Harvey. You can’t rip that out from under him now. Satan himself wouldn’t even do that.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Harvey said. “And he won’t say anything.”

“Yeah? What kind of deal did you make him?”

“Are you implying I threatened a sixteen year old to keep our illicit affair a secret?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying.” Ted nodded. “And I thought he was seventeen?”

“I didn’t blackmail him. I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt. And he was sixteen for two loud, blissful hours.”

“No kidding?”

“Fuck.” Harvey plastered his face into his hands.

“You really couldn’t wait, huh?” Ted sounded amused. He leaned back his seat and folded his hands. “Come on, might as well spill. Tell me everything.”

“Ted, I’m not giving you the play-by-play.”

“Since when? We always discuss our escapades, especially when it’s not each other. So let’s hear it. He was loud? How loud? Like you loud or me loud?”

“You times ten, plus that junior we had in 2L.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Harvey inhaled at the memory. “Vocal and… _responsive_ and… _obedient…_ just totally melted. Like no one ever even touched him before. Fried his brain.”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Pretty much.”

“Where is he now?”

Harvey opened his mouth and then stopped. “Uh, I--well…”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harvey? Again?!” Ted stood up abruptly and lowered his voice to a strained whisper. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Look, Ted, I didn’t know what to do, okay? He went back to the club and--”

“And that’s where you should’ve _left_ him, Harvey!”

“He’s not working there for fun, okay? He’s trying to pay for his grandmother’s nursing home care. Thinks he’s gonna make twenty-five grand at this place before she drops dead.” Harvey scoffed, “You know what he did for extra money? He let a bunch of perverts jerk off to him in his underwear.”

“Harvey, you had sex with him. I don’t think you really have a leg to stand on here.”

“Look, you’re the one who just said I’m the devil if I cut him loose all of a sudden. So I’m trying to figure out what to do, okay? In the meantime, it’s 38 degrees out and I wasn’t gonna give him unsupervised reign of my condo all day.”

Ted was silent, just looking across his desk and shaking his head disapprovingly. Eventually he sighed. “Congratulations on getting yourself in the shittiest situation possible , Harvey.”

 

*

 

To Harvey’s combined relief and disappointment, Mike was still right where he’d left him: curled up with a law textbook on the end of the couch.

“What do you know about litigation?” Harvey asked casually. He sat down and opened his computer but did not look up.

It took more than a few seconds for the words to reach Mike and break through all the concentration he was using to focus on reading.

“Litigation?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Um...it depends what it is, I guess. Why?”

“No reason. What page are you on?”

Mike glanced down. “Twenty-nine.”

“And you remember everything you’ve read so far?”

“Yeah.”

Harvey just said, “Hm.”

And then the unmistakeable clicking of Donna’s heels in the doorway had his head flying up to look at her. But it was way too late. Mike was in plain sight and he didn’t exactly blend into the environment.

“Harvey--”

There was more accusation than confusion in her voice today than there had been Friday. And Harvey was running out of ways to stall. Clenching his jaw, he stood up and motioned her back to her desk, following closely and closing the door to his office.

“Okay,” he sighed, and it was the bottom of the ninth and he was trying desperately to think of something she would buy. But Donna was always a hard sell; always perpetually suspicious about, well, everything.

She folded her arms. “Waiting.”

“He’s a...one of my friends is out of town, all right, and I offered to watch their kid for a little while.”

“You don’t have any friends except Ted,” Donna told him. “And me, but that’s a given. And Louis, but only when you’re not fighting. And occasionally Scottie, although--” she put a finger to her lip thoughtfully, “I’d say more like frenemies.”

“Donna, I’m serious. It’s an old friend of mine from undergrad, you don’t know them. We’re not that close, but I decided to…”

“Be a nice person and help someone out?”

“Yeah.” Harvey nodded. “Look, the reason I’ve been keeping it low-profile is because I don’t want Jessica thinking I’m not giving ourclients one hundred percent.Plus, your story about Antell isn’t exactly going to hold up three days after the firm has sent him on his way.”

Donna eyed him a few more seconds and then said, “Okay. I believe you.”

Harvey wasn’t so sure if she did or not, but he exhaled anyway. At the very least, he’d bought himself some more time since it would take at least a few days for her to drag the truth out of Ted, and that’s if his loyalty wavered in the first place.

“In that case, can we get back to our case? Ted and I need you to track someone down for us.”

“Sure thing.” Donna moved back behind her desk and took out a memo pad. “Who?”

“Edith Ross.” Harvey cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his poker face from slipping.

“No problem, any other information or should I sift through about 400,000 New Yorkers until I find her?”

“I don’t know how old she is, probably between 70-85. She’s in a private nursing home somewhere in Manhattan, visiting hours are 3-6.”

“What does this have to do with Ted’s case?”

“It just does, Donna, okay? Can you handle it or not?”

Donna put her hands up in defense. “Consider it done.”

“Thank-you.”

Feeling a little sick -- because he’d never lied to Donna before, and definitely never to this degree, about something so critical -- Harvey retreated back into his office. He sat down and looked at his computer, but his eyes kept darting up to look across the room at Mike, still engrossed in a textbook.

Eventually, Harvey sighed and forced himself back to work.

 

*

 

Around two o’clock, Ted wandered in to ask Harvey if they were going out to lunch.

Realizing that he was actually starving -- and that Mike probably was too by now -- Harvey nodded, grabbed his coat, snapped his fingers a few times.

Mike got up and asked, “Where are we going?”

“To eat. You’re hungry, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then, come on.”

 

Ted seemed quietly irritated that Mike was tagging along, and it was only because Harvey knew him so well that he picked up on the passive aggressive body language as they climbed out of the back of the town car.

Harvey ignored it as long as he could. But then Mike made an innocent observation about the menu, and it all went downhill from there.

“This place is really, um, expensive.”

“That’s because they serve real food, not whatever crap you’re used to eating,” Ted snapped, and Mike flinched and fell silent.

Harvey elbowed his colleague in the side and leaned to whisper harshly in his ear. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Ted just huffed and went back to scanning his own menu. When the waiter came by, he and Harvey put their orders in, and then turned expectantly to Mike.

Harvey noticed his hesitation. “Get whatever you want. Go ahead.”

Slowly, Mike nodded and relayed his order. It was an appetizer, and Harvey knew he was holding back; trying not to ask for more than he thought he deserved. But at least he was making progress. At least he was _eating._

 

Mike inhaled half his food in minutes, and then glanced up self-consciously. Harvey just asked if it was good, to which he received a hasty, grateful nod.

After Mike got up to use the restroom, Harvey took his chance to turn back towards Ted.

“Well?”

“Well what, Harvey.” Ted hardly phrased it as a question as much as a muttered statement. He didn’t make eye contact.

“You want to tell me why you snapped at him for no reason? He’s just a kid and--”

Ted scoffed. “He was just a kid when you fucked him, too, Harvey, I don’t see you all up in arms over that.”

“Look, if you’re pissed at me, be pissed at me, okay? But...you have to talk to me. What’s going on? Four hours ago you trying to make sure I didn’t throw this kid out in a snowbank, and now you're yelling at him and guilt-tripping me for sleeping with him when you know -- and don’t lie to my face, Ted -- that you wanted to do the same thing three weeks ago.”

“I’m not pissed, Harvey, I just want to know where I stand, here. We have gone out or stayed in since you met this kid. So what is it? Can I come over tonight or am I competing with a seventeen-year-old for your attention now?”

Harvey sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic. I told you, I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said three days ago, Harvey. Before the blizzard and the whole fucking him part.”

“Are you...are you seriously _jealous_ right now? All these years and all I had to do to make you jealous was sleep with someone younger?”

“Younger? Harvey, he’s a _teenager_. And I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed. I mean, what exactly is your plan here, anyway? You keep him around and use him as a sex toy, feed him, and threaten him with, what, getting thrown out to keep him quiet?”

Harvey shook his head and took a long drink of diet coke. “That’s low, even for you, Ted,” he replied dryly. “Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause and then Ted spoke again. “Harvey, I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t worry about it. And for the record, I didn’t blackmail him, okay? Technically, he’s in the custody of the state and--”

Ted laughed, but it was still slightly bitter. “Technically I’d say he’s in the custody of Harvey Specter right now.”

“I’m serious, Ted. The kid’s basically an orphan. I don’t know what happened to him in the system, but he ran, and he’s terrified of it. So yeah, okay, maybe I threatened to send him back, but not for the reasons you think.”

“Ah, something other than not telling people you seduced him into your bed?”

“I told him I would send him back if he ever went back to the strip club. It’s for his own good.”

“Well, that’s charitable.”

Harvey shrugged. “It’s the best I could come up with. He called my bluff at first, but then he freaked out. Thing is though, he was right, Ted. I’m never going to call, I don’t even know what I’d tell them. And I even can’t bullshit my way through any questions when they want to know why he’s...in my house.”

“Make an anonymous report.”

“I thought about it, but…”

“You can’t do it, can you?”

“I have a better solution, okay? I’m going to pay the bill, keep his grandmother in the home, whatever it is he’s such a goddamn mess over. And then he won’t go back to the strip club, and he can get a real job, and...whatever, then he won’t be my problem anymore and I can’t put all this behind me.”

Ted widened his eyes. “You’re gonna pay twenty-five grand? Wow, maybe I had it wrong after all. This kid has _you_ in a corner.”

“He’s not blackmailing _me, either_ Ted. I offered to help, he freaked out, didn’t want to take any of my money. Which is why I’m not going to tell him until after it’s done.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“It’s just…” Ted set down his fork and looked up again. “He didn’t appeal to your empathy, because he knows you don’t have any. But he did play the whole I’m-hot-and-you-know it card because that was your weakness. Now he has you in a bind, making sure you’re too afraid to risk writing him off because now he has something to hold over you. He has you right where he wants you, Harvey.”

Harvey shook his head, unconvinced -- or at least pretending to be; he didn’t like that he didn’t know for sure which one it was.

“I told you, Ted, he didn’t want my money. You saw him, the kid won’t even order a thirty-dollar meal because he doesn’t think he’s worth it. He’s going to be slinking around with his tail between his legs for the rest of the day, which, for the record, is annoying as shit.”

“I know that, and I agree, I don’t think money was ever his motive. Honestly...I think he just wants...a home.”

Ted raised his eyebrow, almost in some kind of generalized apology for the entire situation Harvey was in, and went back to eating his steak. Harvey just stared ahead, his chin resting on steepled fingers, shoulders sagging with stress and regret.

“I have it under control. In the meantime, this case we’re working? It could make or break the firm. Mike’s our golden ticket.”

“You’re saying you want to use his brain, now, too?”

“Don’t you?”

Ted nodded. “It definitely worked out last week,” he said, and then looked at his watch. “He’s taking forever, by the way.”

Harvey frowned. “I know.”

“You think he bolted again?”

“No.” But Harvey was about to stand up and make sure, when he saw Mike was finally on his way back. By the the time he got to the table, Harvey noticed his face was visibly paler than usual, and he had a small hand on the side of his stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

Mike looked like he was on the verge of tears, again. “I have a stomachache.”

“You’re probably eating too much, too fast,” Harvey told him. “You need to slow down until you get used to it.”

Beside him, Ted mumbled over the edge of his drink. “I had the flu for eight days last year, and I all I got was ‘suck it up.’”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “My heart is breaking.”

At that Mike managed a small laugh and Ted just groaned.

Once the tab was paid, Harvey ushered Mike out with a hand on the small of his back.

 

Back at the firm, Harvey stopped in front of Ted before parting ways.

“You know you can still come over, right.”

Ted stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was still tense. “Yeah, I know.”

“So?”

“Maybe, Harvey, I don’t know. I’ll call you.”

Harvey just nodded once, and was about to head for his office when he remembered something. “Hey, by the way,” he called. “Uh, if Donna brings info on someone I had her look up for me...just go with it, okay?”

Ted gave him a weak, but genuine smile. “No problem.”

 

*

 

On Harvey’s couch, Mike leaned against the arm and made a disgusted face as he chewed. “These are gross.”

“They’re antacids, Mike, not candy.” Harvey handed him a bottle of water. “Here. Wash them down.”

Mike did, and then reached for the book he was still working on.

Content that he Mike was now fed, watered, and sufficiently occupied with something to read, Harvey returned to his desk. He allowed himself a minute to recover and prepare for the remainder of the day. Then, after resting his eyes briefly and trying to ward off stress, he opened them to notice a post-it note stuck to his laptop.

_Found what you were looking for. Check your email.  
Louis needs me again. See you tomorrow. _

_-Donna_

Harvey quickly opened the computer and logged in. As promised, there was everything he needed to know about one Edith Ross, particularly: that she was related to a _Mike Ross, age 17; grandson,_ as well as the assisted living facility she was in, along with all the contact info.

He was staring at the email, reading and re-reading as he decided if he was really going to do this, when he heard a light _clunk_ from across the room. Harvey glanced up to see that the book Mike had been reading had slipped from his hand onto the floor, and his face was pressed heavily into the armrest, one foot dangling off.

Sighing, Harvey stood up and walked over, picking up the book and placing it on the table. Then he reached for the throw blanket he kept draped over the back of the couch, covered Mike, and carefully began to adjust limbs so that the kid wouldn’t roll off the side.

Mike stirred, mumbling something unintelligible, and then his breaths became heavy and slow again. He was still pale, but he looked comfortable.

So Harvey walked away in favor of sitting down again. He stared at the email for fifth time, then stared at the phone. And then at Mike. And then at the phone. Exasperated, he finally picked it up and dialed the numbers.

The first few minutes, as expected, were trying to cut through all the bullshit of being transferred eighteen times and talking to three different recordings. Finally, a live person.

Harvey took one last look at Mike to make sure he was sleeping. The kid was out cold.

“I’m calling to pay an overdue bill for Edith Ross, room 115,” Harvey began. He knew he’d face a few questions regarding who he was, but he also knew that no one turned down money, regardless of who was paying it. “Harvey Specter. Yes, I know I’m not a relative. Right, well there are no living relatives except a high school student and I’m afraid you won’t be getting any money from him anytime soon, so if I could go ahead and make the payment on the family’s behalf--”

“Not a problem sir,” the woman answered. “The balance is overdue by four months.”

“Of course it is,” Harvey muttered. He reached for his wallet and fished out a credit card. “Well, I’d like to go ahead and take care of it, then. What’s the total now?”

“Twenty-nine thousand, six hundred fifty three.”

 

*

 

It was ten o’clock and Harvey glanced at his phone, sighed, and put it away. Ted hadn’t called or texted, and Harvey had about given up on seeing him anytime soon.

So he wandered into the living room, where Mike was curled up, watching TV but not looking very invested in it. He was frowning slightly like he was lost in thought.

“What are you thinking, kid?”

Mike looked up, dazed. “Nothing.”

“You’re not a very good liar.”

“I was just…I don’t know. I know you and Ted were talking about me. I know because he was mad at me and you want me to leave and I don’t want to mess everything up for you but I...I don’t have anywhere to go, Harvey.”

Harvey sat down next to him. “Mike,” he sighed. “You need to decide what you want from me, okay? I can’t be your parent, your bank account, the guy who fucks you into the mattress, all in the span of a week, okay? I don’t know what you want and I probably can’t give it to you, but you might as well just tell me.” He tossed up his hands in defeat. “Is it money? Sex? Food? A place to go when it’s ten below? You have to speak up.”

Mike, by this point, was looking down at the floor, eyes watering. “I...I don’t _know,”_ he whined, his voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know, Harvey.”

“Well think, Mike.”

“I…” Mike sniffled. “I don’t have anyone else. And when I...when I met you, that night at the club, I thought you were...just like all the other guys who came in there, I thought you were a jerk. But then you tried to help me--you _did_ help me. And I like you…” he looked up, as if hopeful Harvey would return the sentiment. “I really, really like you.”

Harvey looked at him long and hard. “Like me how, Mike?” he asked, a lot more gently. “Like you want me to take care of you or you want me to touch you? I can’t do both, kid. It’s...that dynamic, it’s...it’s fucked up. Okay?”

Swallowing hard, Mike grasped at straws; anything to change Harvey’s mind. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “No one will know.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”

Mike shook his head and scoffed.‘’What, you think you corrupted me? You think I wasn’t already completely fucked up by the time you met me? Give me a break, Harvey. I’ve been in the system for four years. I’ve never had control of anything, not where I go or what I do or who I talk to. So I fucking left, and I tried to make it by myself, and then I met you and I thought you were hot and I _wanted_ to sleep with you. It was like I could finally decide what _I_ wanted. I just didn’t think I’d like you after that. I thought you’d be a jerk, like you were at the club, like every other guy there. But you weren’t.’’

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think, Mike.”

“But you _helped_ me.”

“Mike.’’ Harvey ran his hands over his face wearily. “What I did, that wasn’t helping you. I didn’t do you any favors by having sex with you.’’

“I seduced you,’’ Mike countered, and Harvey would’ve laughed if the kid had sounded more convincing and less pitiful. “I--”

‘’You’re seventeen, Mike. You can’t seduce anyone.’’

Like he was desperate to prove him wrong, Mike angled his body toward Harvey, leaned down and pressed his forehead to Harvey’s thigh, something that was becoming a habit.

“Please,” he whined. “Please, can I stay?”

“Mike--”

Mike sat up and boldly crawled halfway into Harvey’s lap, pressing his mouth up to his ear. “I’m good, I swear. I mean, I know I’m a fuckup but I’m not awful, right? I--I mean, I’m not totally boring, I swear, and I’m really, really smart, and I’ll do whatever you want. I can try harder. I can be...better, Harvey, _please.”_

Harvey breathed slow and evenly through his nose. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell to do with this kid. Mike was right on most accounts: he _wasn’t_ totally boring, he was pretty much a walking law library, he was very helpful, and appreciative (although he said sorry more times than Harvey cared to hear.) And on occasion he was fairly entertaining given his ability to go from innocent teenager to complete smartass in mere seconds. Lastly, but perhaps foremost, he was everything Harvey ever wanted in bed: young (too young; _jailbait young),_ inexperienced (too inexperienced; _virginal),_ submissive, and desperate to please.

Maybe he could handle Mike sticking around during the day if it meant he had a year-round pass to all of his morally unacceptable fantasies at night.

Speaking of which, he had his hand in a loose grip around Mike’s slender wrist, and he was gently guiding it toward his belt, and he knew Mike wouldn’t object -- at least not in any clear sense that he couldn’t justify ignoring -- and he was tingling with anticipation.

“Okay,” he relented, “Show me how much you want to stay.”

And once Mike gave in, slid onto his knees, and started to unfasten his belt, Harvey just bit his lip and watched the show.

Mike hadn’t grasped the concept of oral sex the first night, understandably, but he was making up for it in enthusiasm. And honestly, it didn’t really matter if he had good technique as long as his mouth was on Harvey. Hell, just the visual was enough that Harvey had to make a conscious effort to calm himself.

“I want this,” he started, running his knuckles through Mike’s hair. “What you’re doing, I want it every night. Are you gonna be okay with that? Mike?”

Mike didn’t seem to realize Harvey had asked him a question. He was looking up, eyes dazed, moving in cadence to the way Harvey was subtly guiding his head up and down.

“Mike. Are you listening?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Fuck,” Harvey muttered. He tugged gently on Mike’s hair until Mike slipped off with a wet pop. “I asked if you’re okay with this.”

Mike sounded breathless when he answered. “Yeah.”

He pushed down and Mike returned to sucking and licking, learning mostly by trial and error, repeating the things with his tongue when they earned him a groan of pleasure, and avoiding the accidental-teeth scrape that got him a harsh jerk backwards.

“That’s good,” Harvey sighed. “Good boy.” He leaned back and closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much more complicated this was making everything. How much more _illegal,_ too, though he supposed it was a little late to be worried about that.

He let Mike suckle at his own leisure for a few more minutes, and then Harvey threaded four fingers into his hair, and rested his other hand on the back of his neck. He felt the muscles in his stomach tense with pleasure.

Gradually, he started guiding Mike’s face further into his lap. Unsurprisingly, he was met with resistance and a very sensitive gag reflex. He hummed impatiently.

“Mike.”

“S-sorry.” Mike coughed and took a breath just as he was being pushed down again.

Harvey held him in place with about half his cock in his mouth. He stroked his face and replaced his hands. “I want you take more of it, so open that mouth, kid,” he instructed. “Flatten your tongue, there you go.” He pushed. Mike’s throat spasmed. He gagged.

“Fuck.” Harvey let go, and Mike sat back sputtering.

“I’m trying, I just--”

“Sshh, it’s okay.” Harvey squeezed the back of his neck. “We’ll work up to that. Just suck on it, okay?”

Harvey knew his words were loaded. He also knew that while Mike had a good reason to run, the kid also had a dozen more reasons to stay. So he wasn’t surprised when Mike looked up from between his knees, nodded, and went back to work.

 _“Fuck.”_ Harvey sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He kept one hand on Mike’s head, threading his fingers through the soft hair, and just letting it rest there as encouragement. Which was working well, because Mike was working him toward an orgasm much faster than Harvey wanted to admit. He’d always had a lot of stamina and self-control, but Mike was licking and sucking in all the right places and _moaning_ and Harvey would’ve wondered how the hell he’d learned so quickly if he was able to think at all.

He was thrusting shallowly, looking down, eyes dark with lust, lip caught between his teeth. Trying to draw this out any longer was hopeless. His breaths quickened, muscles tense, and he came into Mike’s mouth with strangled sound, along with a quiet, unintentional _Mike_ under his breath.

_“Jesus Christ.”_

Mike sat back on his heels and looked up, saliva and semen dripping down his lip and chin. Harvey composed himself just enough to reach out and use his thumb to push it all back into Mike’s mouth, along with the rest of it.

“Swallow it,” he said. It was supposed to be an order, but his voice was raw and weak. But Mike did, and Harvey felt a surge of appreciation and he grabbed Mike’s shirt and hauled him onto his feet.

“Take this off,” he said, impatiently tugging at Mike’s pants.

Mike stepped out of them quickly, and Harvey put his fingers in the waistband of his underwear.

“These too,” he breathed. “Hurry up. Good. Come here.”

He pulled Mike forward into his lap again, shifting Mike easily until he had one knee on either side of Harvey’s thigh. Then he slowly eased him down until his cock rested heavily against him.

Mike whined.

“You’re hard,” Harvey observed. “From sucking my cock?”

Another whine.

“Fuck. Come on, Mike, you want to come?” Mike nodded rapidly. “Go ahead, then, make yourself come, let me see.”

Mike’s hand reached down -- and Harvey grabbed it and swatted it away.

“No, don’t touch yourself.” Harvey gripped Mike’s hips and demonstrated how to rub himself back and forth on the smooth material of his suit, and how to press his erection against the toned muscles underneath. “Do this.”

Tentatively, Mike began to mimic the way Harvey had guided his body. He relaxed and settled himself down fully onto Harvey and started to move. Three times was all it took for him to bury his face in Harvey’s neck and start whining again, moving faster and more fervently.

Harvey watched in fascination as Mike’s cock slid up and down the inside of his thigh, stopping only when it nudged his hip, and then down nearly to his knee, and then back up again, over and over, faster and faster. Mike was breathing hard in his ear, whimpering, mumbling incoherently, trying to kiss Harvey’s neck but so far not exactly a pro at the art of multitasking.

“Good,” Harvey said. He put his hand up the back of Mike’s sure and rubbed the warm expanse of skin there, which seemed to drive Mike even crazier. “So good.”

He raked his nails down Mike’s back. He already knew the kid had a praise kink; he’d established that within five minutes of them first meeting. And now he got to see the full effect of it. He saw how Mike’s movements sped up when he told him he was doing good; when he lauded him in anyway. And he could hear the whimpers and the moans get louder when he said “Good boy.”

_“Harvey--”_

Harvey knew a warning when he heard one, and if he was in a reasonable state of mind he probably would’ve pulled Mike off him, and finished him with his hand to spare his suit. But as it was, he just couldn’t be bothered, and Mike looked so hot right where he was, grinding into him, completely uninhibited, that Harvey decided he didn’t give a fuck if Mike came all over his clothes.

Which is exactly what he did five seconds later, hips jerking a little, and then collapsing against Harvey’s chest with a soft gasp, panting and keening, and saying Harvey’s name again and again.

When Harvey pulled him up and looked him in the eyes, he saw that Mike’s face was flushed and sweaty, and now he was blushing too. 

Harvey smirked and Mike hid his face in the broad shoulder in front of him. They stayed like that for several more minutes until Harvey finally nudged him off his lap and ushered him toward the bathroom.

 

Mike was going on and on -- something about the books he’d been reading -- and Harvey was only half-paying attention, hoping the hot water was scalding enough to wash away any of the (relatively minimal) guilt settling in as he found some clarity again. But it was hopeless.

Deciding he needed to try something else, he rinsed off, told Mike to take his time, and headed out to the kitchen. He stood there staring straight ahead, drinking scotch that was more bitter than usual; that burned a lot more intensely as it hit his stomach it. For a minute, he considered that it was amplifying his regret -- that _had_ to be the uncomfortable sensation he was feeling -- but before he could decide for sure, Mike strolled out of the bedroom, completely naked, using a towel to dry his hair. He was holding up a t-shirt in his free hand.

“Can I wear this or does it cost a thousand dollars?”

Harvey looked Mike up and down and that’s when it him: the only guilt he was actually feeling -- was the complete lack of it.

He downed the rest of the whisky in one swallow.

 

*

“Can I watch TV?”

Mike was back on the couch, in only the t-shirt, his legs tucked under him.

“Not right now,” Harvey said. He was holding a thick folder in his hands and taking a seat on the opposite end. “I want you to read something. Not tonight, though.”

“What is it?”

“The case Ted and I are working on.”

Mike grinned. “You want my help.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Harvey set the file down on the coffee table. “I just decided that I’d consult you since your brain is as big as your ego’s getting.”

“I thought I’m not supposed to read anything you’re working on? You said it was a violation of...well, I’m assuming you meant a violation of some kind of confidentiality law but then you realized you can’t throw stones in a glass--”

Harvey sighed loudly and interrupted, “I get it, I get it. Now you never saw this okay? This is off the record.”

“Fine. What’s it about?”

“Intellectual Property.”

Mike shrugged. “Cakewalk.”

“We’ll see.” Harvey stood up again and motioned for Mike to follow. “Come on. Bed.”

 

Mike practically dived onto the bed, sprawling out like every time he slept in one was the first time he ever slept in one.

Harvey scowled. “What are you, five?”

Mike just rolled his eyes and climbed under the blankets. Harvey disappeared into the bathroom again to brush his teeth, but it didn’t deter Mike from just shouting his questions out.

“Am I coming with you tomorrow?”

“No,” Harvey called. “I have to go to court.”

“Can’t I just stay in your office while you’re gone?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

Harvey didn’t answer right away. He rinsed his mouth, wiped his face off, and then wandered out of the bathroom. “Because you can’t. What you _can_ do is stay here and read that file for me, and be useful like you were so eager to be.”

Mike seemed to like the idea of staying. “Cool. So I can sleep in?”

“As long as you’ve read every single page by the time I come home.” Harvey slid into bed next to him but kept a couple feet between them. He face Mike with a serious expression. “Can I trust you?”

“To figure out this case that you and Ted are obviously stuck on.”

“First of all, we’re not stuck on it. But you happen to have the ability to speed up the process. And second of all, what I meant was, can I _trust_ you?”

Mike looked offended by the question, but not terribly surprised. “You mean, like, not to steal anything?” He shook his head. “No, Harvey, I’m not gonna rob you.”

“And you’re not going to go running back to that god-awful establishment they call club?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m fired since you, you know, dragged me out in the middle of my shift.”

Harvey found the sarcasm less amusing tonight, and more irritating. So just said, “Good,” and then, “Go to sleep.”

He rolled over, facing away from Mike, and turned out the light on the nightstand. For a while, he just laid there in the dark listening as Mike’s breathing became slightly audible and rhythmic as the kid started to fall asleep.

Restless, and at a total loss as to what to do about the situation, Harvey reached for his phone and texted Ted:

_You were right. I’m screwed._

Without waiting for a reply, he put the phone back on charge and closed his eyes. He was drained.

His last thought before drifting off was: if there was _any_ damage control to deal with his malfeasance over the past week and a half -- he’d have to figure it out tomorrow.

 

*

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey pays up. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my excuse for any typos is that i edited this at 5am :D  
> one more chapter, but who knows how long it'll take me...

 

*

Harvey was cooking breakfast, expertly skirting around the massive elephant in the room at every turn, even humming a little as if it might make everything completely normal again. Except that he never hummed, and it was freaking him out, and, apparently Mike, too.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making you food, kid. Why? Complaints?”

Mike took a sip of orange juice and then shook his head slowly. “No.”

Harvey multitasked easily; putting bread in the toaster, eggs in the pan, adjusting the temperature, all while studying Mike’s expression and trying to figure out what it meant.

But as usual he just ended up more confused and annoyed, and figured he was probably not even in the realm of similar thoughts so he might as well just ask.

“What’s on your mind, Mike?”

Mike looked up, dazed. “Nothing. It’s...it’s not important. I just, well, remember when you asked if there was something I wanted, for my birthday?”

Harvey’s interest piqued. He nodded, and Mike continued.

“Well, I mean...I don’t wanna ask for anything, but I just thought of something and I kinda forgot about it before because I thought I’d never get it so I didn’t say anything when you asked but--”

Harvey smacked his own forehead. “Jesus christ. Spit it out, Mike.”

“I wanna get my license.”

“Your license?” Harvey looked across the counter with a bored expression. He was really hoping the kid had thought of something more attainable than college but vastly more exciting than...a glorified I.D.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you even need a license?” Harvey went about doling out their breakfast onto two plates. “It’s New York. We walk, take the subway…”

“Or a private town car,” Mike muttered.

Harvey heard him and quickly cut him off. “Yeah, or that. Seriously, Mike, what’s the point of this?”

“I know, it’s stupid, and I’ll never even have a car anyway, but...I just always wanted to learn.”

“You want more orange juice?”

Mike nodded and Harvey refilled his glass.

“Look, if you wanted this so bad, why not get it two years ago?”

“I can’t get it by myself.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Ah, I forgot, you know all the laws backwards and forwards because you ‘read them in a library’ once. But you were wrong the first time, remember?”

“No, I really can’t. I have to have a guardian.”

“Well, I’m definitely not your damn guardian, Mike. Next question.”

“Not a _real_ one, just an adult to go with you and sign the cons--” Mike winced, “ _release_ form.” He was starting to get frustrated and apparently, seated on the other side of the counter, so was Harvey.

“You know what? Let’s talk about something important, like the homework I gave you. Due today, by the way.”

Mike felt a little bitterness rise in him, and he had a bad feeling that this morning was going to crash and burn as fast as it started, so he ate quickly. He wasn’t going to let his food become collateral damage.

After inhaling half of it, he bravely gritted out, “I have school.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was about five.”

Harvey stared back and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try again?”

Mike sighed. He slowed down his eating, took a large gulp of his orange juice, and adjusted his tone. “I have class ten to two-thirty, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.”

He considered reminding Harvey that he’d already told him all of this, but then Mike looked back at stony brown eyes and decided against it.

“Anything important today? Finals? SATs? FCATs?”

“What?” Mike scrunched up his face. “Dude, you don’t take FCATs in high school.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Whatever. I took the SATs last year. And no, no finals.”

“Your SATs...what’d you get?”

“2400.”

“Perfect score,” Harvey mused, almost proudly.

Mike just shrugged.

 

A few minutes later, Harvey cleared the plates and put them in the dishwasher. He glanced at his watch. _8:19._

“You can go to school if you want, Mike. But I think your brain would be more useful here, looking over my case. Up to you. Either way, you need to get in the shower and put on some real clothes.”

“I...yeah, I wanna stay. I wanna help.”

“Good choice,” Harvey said, and nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

 

Mike looked around Harvey’s room for more clothes, but when he couldn’t find any, he just sighed and told himself he’d figure it out after the shower. He only made it a few feet into the bathroom and was about to pull a towel from the closet when he felt Harvey’s familiar, strong hand wrap around his forearm and gently spin him around.

_“Whaa--”_

“I just realized I have forty-five minutes before I have to be at work. And you _..._ you have all the time in the world, right?” Harvey was smirking. “Come here.”

He tugged Mike’s shirt over his head, put his hands on his hips, and steered him backwards towards the shower. Mike went easily, holding onto Harvey’s biceps as he was guided, and kissing back when he was kissed.

“I can’t believe I’m getting undressed again for this,” Harvey sighed.

Mike looked hurt. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Trust me, it’s worth it. Just...turn the water on, I’m right behind you.”

Harvey stripped out of his suit quickly. It wasn’t especially time-consuming since he hadn’t put on his tie or jacket, but he liked to keep Mike just insecure enough that the kid wouldn’t start forgetting who was in control. If Harvey made it seem it like fucking him was amazing but not always at the top of the list -- then Mike was more likely to give him absolutely everything he had at the drop of a pin.

It was working like a charm.

Mike was already warm and soaking wet when Harvey stepped into the shower and closed the door, and he had his lowered and his hands wiping water from his eyes.

“Up against the wall,” Harvey ordered, reveling in how quickly Mike complied; how fast he moved to press his back up to the tile and wait for further instruction.

Harvey picked up a bottle of shampoo, opened the cap, and then reached for one of Mike’s hands, turning it over and pouring a generous amount of soap onto it. He motioned for Mike to rub his hands together.

“Touch yourself,” Harvey told him, once Mike’s hands were slick and full of lather.

Mike reached down and almost grabbed his cock, but stopped when Harvey looked at him disapprovingly and pushed his hand away.

“You might be a genius--” Harvey stepped closer. “But you still have a lot to learn.” He turned the shower head a couple inches in the other direction, so they were out of the direct spray of water, but still wet and surrounded by steam.

“So teach me,” Mike said, and there was more than a little challenge in his voice.

“He can talk?” Harvey asked, sarcastic and grinning. He didn’t wait for Mike to reply, just crowded into his space, tilted his his face up and kissed him, hard and forcefully.

Mike opened his mouth and let Harvey’s tongue in, and kissed back the best that he could, but it wasn’t a fair fight. In the end, Harvey just possessed his whole mouth and all Mike could do was let him.

“First lesson is try to keep up, kid.”

“Second lesson is slow down,” Mike shot back.

“Nice try,” Harvey said. “But points for the wit.” He moved his hand down to Mike’s thigh, finally hooking it behind his knee and lifting it up, higher and higher until it was sliding up over his hip and Mike was trying to adjust to standing on one leg.

“This seems...impractical.”

“Lesson two, patience.” Harvey ran his hand over Mike’s cock and could _feel_ him shiver against him. When he slipped two fingers lower, pressing against his hole, Mike gasped a little and tensed like the first night.

“You’ve never touched yourself here, have you?” Harvey only vaguely recalled the basics of what Mike had told him about his sexual experience, or lack-thereof, four days ago when he’d first gotten him in bed. The memory wasn’t so much what was said as it was what Harvey had felt and tasted and touched -- and that was all that really mattered to him.

Mike was shaking his head. “No, for the second time.”

“Why are you more of a smartass than usual today?” Harvey asked, except he didn’t wait for a response. He pressed a slick finger inside Mike without much warning, and Mike startled, whining and twisting up against Harvey’s body.

“No reason,” Mike gritted out. Harvey’s finger slid in and out of him - one, then two, then three - and it felt just as strange and uncomfortable as it had the first time, but he also remembered that it had eventually felt good. So he closed his eyes and breathed and waited, letting Harvey work him open, until he felt looser and a little more relaxed.

“Whatever it is,” Harvey breathed, dragging his fingers out slowly, “I’m sure I can fuck it out of you.”

He kept one hand in a tight grip on Mike’s thigh, holding it up against his hip, and with the other he guided his cock up against Mike’s hole. It was the perfect position, really. Since he was considerably taller than Mike, he had more than enough leverage, and when he pushed inside he could go as deep as possible without doing anything more than simply standing up straight.

Mike let out a sharp breath at the sudden invasion, and whimpered, his arm flying out, hand pushing down on Harvey’s shoulder in a clear signal: _stop._

Harvey paused, his knees still bent a little, cock only halfway inside. He licked his way up Mike’s neck to his mouth. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Mike swallowed. “I’m good.” He bit his lip and breathed hard through his nose as Harvey continued pushing, all the way in.

Harvey bent Mike’s leg up further, folding him but stopping just short of spraining any muscles. He started to move slowly, gauging Mike’s reaction.

Mike just rolled his head to the side and moaned. It took a little while, but his inhibitions started to dissolve, and he remembered that it was just him, and Harvey, and any reservations he had about being embarrassed were completely unfounded, and there wasn’t really any sense pretending it wasn’t starting to feel really, really good. So he relaxed into each thrust, sagging against the wall and trusting Harvey to hold him up.

“Look at me,” Harvey demanded. _“Mike.”_ He waited for Mike to turn his head and look him in the eyes. “Good boy. You like this, don’t you?”

Mike thought to himself that he’d like it a lot more if it wasn’t some bizarre _quid pro quo/_ dirty little secret sort of deal, but he couldn’t deny that Harvey was hitting some place inside him that up until four days ago, he didn’t even know _existed._ And it was making him whine and squirm and breathe fast, and in between all of that, the only answer he was able to give Harvey was a rapid nod.

“Good.” Harvey ran his hand roughly up and down Mike’s side, over his nipple, his chest, hipbone, gently scraping his nails into the soft skin on every other stroke. “So good,” he whispered, with his mouth up to Mike’s ear. “You’re so good, Mike. So beautiful.”

Mike moaned, closed his eyes and tried to pretend Harvey was telling him the truth. He believed the _good_ part, but he _was_ being good. He was doing everything he was told. Harvey seemed generally impressed by his brain, not entirely annoyed by him, and more than eager to fuck him regularly, so, yeah, Mike was confident that he was _good_ in the way Harvey was implying. It was the _beautiful_ part that Mike doubted. Because he’d never been called that, ever, or anything even remotely close to that kind of compliment. He had, however, been called other things, like _useless, a burden, Mike #6, new Mike, old Mike, skinny, quiet, sad, returned, unwanted, runaway, throwaway, troublemaker---_ the list went on. But never _beautiful._

Fortunately, he couldn’t focus on all the terrible things people had said to him in the past because Harvey was still whispering praise into ear, still fucking him at the perfect speed and the perfect angle. Mike beared down with all his weight and felt a sense of satisfaction at the way Harvey let out a breathy _“Fuck, fuck”_ and his rhythm faltered.

That’s when Mike learned he could take back some control. He clenched around Harvey’s cock, once and then twice, and again, and every time he did, Harvey would lose it a little bit, his hips stuttering, muttering expletives under his breath.

“Fucking hell, Mike.”

As wrecked as Mike was, pinned between Harvey and the wall, he still managed to smirk a little.

Determined to replaced the smirk with slack jaw, Harvey took hold of Mike’s cock and started jerking him hard and fast. It only took ten seconds before he was a writhing mess under Harvey, begging and pleading every time Harvey tightened his grip around the base of his cock, keeping him right on the edge.

“Harvey, _fuck,_ let me--”

“Not yet,” Harvey said. “I think you forgot who’s running this show.”

Mike shook his head wildly. “No, no I didn’t,” he sputtered, trying to push up into Harvey’s hand. “Y-you are. _Please.”_

“Since you asked nicely.” Harvey leaned in and kissed him one more time, and then stroked his hand up Mike’s cock two more times, twisting his wrist just right, making Mike fall apart at the exact second he predicted.

_“Harvey--oh fuck--”_

Mike felt his entire body tensing up and exploding with pleasure, and if he could’ve managed any coherent thought at all it probably would’ve been about how the hell he’d gone so long without experiencing this.

Harvey was biting his own lip, trying to maintain his facade of control but with the way Mike’s muscles were tightening around him, it was hopeless. He fucked in and out of Mike a few more times and that was it -- he grabbed Mike around the small of his back, holding him as tight and as close as possible, and emptied himself inside. Mike’s name was a moan on lips as he orgasmed, biting down on the delicate neck he had his face buried in, but he didn’t want to admit it. Harvey Specter never said _any_ one’s name during sex. So no, it never happened, and he’d maintain that long after this was over, ignoring the little voice in his head that repeated, _liar._

Eventually, once he was slightly more composed, he pulled back and tilted Mike’s chin up. “You okay?”

Mike nodded. He was exhausted, but probably in the best way he could be. It wasn’t until he felt Harvey pull out that he realized they hadn’t used a condom, but Mike didn’t know enough about the subject to bring it up, even if he felt a brief pang of anxiety over it. But he ultimately dismissed it, because there was no sex-ed in foster care, and if there’d been any at all in public school, he’d missed it while he was being tossed around in the system, and it was probably shitty and inadequate anyway.

“Come on.” Harvey tugged him forward, back into the stream of water, still running hot. “Let’s clean up.”

Mike felt a little delirious, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the sex or the heat or both. Harvey could see it on his face, so he took over the washing for the sake of not being late.

 

They rinsed off and Mike was ushered out of the shower and into a clean towel.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” Harvey told him. He wrapped a towel around his own waist and went into the bedroom, searching his closet for something that might fit Mike, but he was running low on options.

He made a mental note that he needed to buy Mike some actual clothes. He certainly couldn’t keep dragging the kid into the office in the same pair of jeans and a t-shirt that was so obviously not his. But then Harvey closed his eyes and tried to shake the thought away because that was just way too permanent and what the hell would it even mean if he started _buying Mike clothes?_

Well, for one thing, that he’d be a lot more covered all the time, and Harvey couldn't think of very many personal benefits to that.

Sighing, Harvey grabbed a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. Mike probably wouldn’t be leaving the condo today, anyway, he figured, so it didn’t really matter.

When he returned to the bathroom, Mike took the clothes and glanced at Harvey, shy but grateful. “Thanks.”

Harvey just nodded and left again to get ready for work for the second time since he’d woken up.

 

Once dressed - again - Harvey left the bedroom, pulling his tie snug around his neck as he walked. Apparently, Mike had wandered back into the kitchen at some point, and that’s where Harvey found him - finishing off what little was left of his orange juice.

“There’s more in the fridge if you know how to pour it,” Harvey called dryly.

“Am I even allowed to open the fridge?”

“If the next sentence out of your mouth is sarcastic, then no.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but walked around the counter to get the juice, and remained quiet.

When Harvey looked at his wrist for the time and realized he forgot his watch, Mike followed him all the way back to the bedroom. 

 _“What_ are you doing?”

“I dunno,” Mike hopped up onto the bed and watched as Harvey fastened a Rolex. “Can I go back to bed?” Harvey didn’t answer right away, so Mike added, “I mean, after I look at the--”

“Mike, I don’t really care what you do before or after,” Harvey interrupted. Everything Mike said became twice as annoying once they both had clothes on. “But I want your full attention on that case. You get bored, watch TV. You get hungry, there’s food in the kitchen. Just don’t touch anything you haven’t already touched. You wanna go out, and do whatever it is you do, fine. Just have an answer by the time I get home. Deal?”

Mike listened, committed every single word to memory, and nodded. “Deal.”

But there was something else he was dying to ask so badly he couldn’t stay still.

Eventually, Harvey couldn’t ignore the small vibrating human a couple feet away. “Jesus christ, Mike, did I not fuck you hard enough? How are you even moving right now?”

“I just...uh...I was just wondering--”

“Wondering _what?”_

“About getting my license...I mean you didn’t say no, so I thought maybe--”

“Listen to me,” Harvey said, going stern and serious. He closed his eyes for a second, pressed two fingers to his temple to stay calm.  “I can’t skip a sixteen-million dollar meeting today to take you across town to try to pass a driving test for a license in a city where you don’t even need one. You have plenty of time to get it, Mike. You’re only seventeen for God’s sakes, what you need to _learn_ is _patience.”_

Mike felt tears burning his eyes, and the bitterness he’d felt earlier that morning was escalating into anger and resentment.

“I know how old I am, Harvey!” he snapped. _“You’re_ the only one who seems to forget!”

He stood up and bolted from the room, leaving Harvey behind to shake his head and battle the worst headache of his life.

 

Mike stormed into the living room in tears, curled up on the end of the couch, and stared out the window. When he heard Harvey walking toward him, he didn’t look up.

“Mike,” Harvey sighed, from a few yards away. “I’m sorry.” He actually felt a little bad, and Mike looked... _cute,_ sitting there wearing his clothes and pouting. But Harvey would never admit it.

No response.

“Look, I’ll try to be home early. I’ll bring dinner. Sound good?”

“Whatever,” Mike muttered.

“Are you going to look at the case for Ted and I or not?”

“Yeah, Harvey, I’ll look at the stupid files.”

Harvey stared for a few seconds and then forced out a “Thanks.”

He left Mike on the couch, and walked out the door.

 

*

At work, Harvey’s day went from routine to shitty. He saw Louis more than he saw Ted, his client was a huge pain the ass, and he was preoccupied thinking about the way he’d left Mike that morning.

For the short time he was able to catch Ted - in the elevator- there was an unusual tenseness between them.

Harvey knew why, and he didn’t know what to say about it, so he wasn’t the first to speak up.

Finally, Ted broke the silence. He turned toward Harvey only slightly. “How’s the kid?”

“He’s fine,” Harvey lied.

“You were ten minutes late. You’ve only been ten minutes late about twice in your entire career, and we both know exactly why, because we both were there.”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Ted? That I was fucking him six ways from Sunday in the shower? You know the answer.”

Ted just scoffed, but didn’t reply.

“And for the record,” Harvey replied. “I told you this doesn’t change anything between us. We’ve never been exclusive, and that was a mutual decision and you know it.”

“So if I come over tonight, what’ll happen, Harvey? Can you tell me that?”

“I’ll kick him out for a few hours. Or...he can stay. I’m sure we can find something for him to do.”

“That’s fucked up.” Ted  laughed, but then his expression sobered, “Seriously?”

Harvey shrugged, looking down at his phone. “He’s hot and he’s easy. It’ll be just like the good old days when you used to lure freshman over with beer.”

“Simpler times.”

The elevator reached the first floor, and they walked through the doors in-step, out on to the sidewalk.

“So where is he today? Hiding out in your office again?”

“No. I told him to stay home and look at the case files.”

“Good idea,” Ted said. “Kid’s literally a genius.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed, adding, “With a smartass mouth.”

“You haven’t figured out how to shut him up yet?”

“I have, I just need to do it more often. He was sulking when I left because I wouldn’t take him to get his driver’s license.”

Ted snorted. “The hell does he need that for?”

“No idea,” Harvey replied. “I told him no, and now he won’t talk to me.”

“You didn’t tell him you paid the bill yet?”

“It’s the best leverage I have, Ted. I’ll tell him when he starts freaking out about it again. Which will be soon, I’m sure.”

They lingered there in front of each other, until Ted eventually asked, “You really want to see me tonight?”

Harvey smiled. “Well I haven’t seen you here all day and I figured we could make up for lost time.”

“Seriously, Harvey.”

“I’m serious.”

Ted nodded. “Then...maybe I’ll text you. I gotta go to court.”

“And I need to go negotiate with a moron,” Harvey commiserated. He headed in the direction of the town car. “I’ll see you later.”

 

*

The meeting went about as well as the rest of the day, but it lasted about half as long as he expected, which was a perk. Harvey was out by three o’clock.

On his way back, he made a decision he’d sworn he wouldn’t -- he cancelled the rest of his obligations that day, and went home.

Mike wasn’t on the couch where he’d left him. For a split second, Harvey felt a twinge of anxiety in his chest at the thought that Mike might have left, but he wasn’t sure if the concern was for Mike -- or for himself.

He walked into his bedroom and found Mike’s thin form curled up under the blankets, head cradled in a pillow. Sound asleep.

Carefully, Harvey took a seat on the edge of the bed, hoping only the dip in the mattress would be enough to wake Mike, but it wasn’t. He should’ve known that by now. So he resorted to reaching out and brushing Mike’s hair back, stroking his face lightly, and saying his name.

_“Mike. Mike. Hey. Wake up.”_

Mike finally stirred, looking up at Harvey in confusion until he got his bearings and remembered where and who he was.

“Hi,” he said meekly, rubbing his eyes.

“Sit up,” Harvey told him. “I want to talk to you.”

He got lost staring in Mike’s blue eyes, and the whole scene was a little endearing because of that and his tousled hair and oversized t-shirt. And Harvey didn’t want to admit it, but for a split second he was transfixed. Mike was beautiful, not just hot, and now Harvey knew about the brilliant mind behind the pretty face, and--no--he stopped himself, took a deep breath and willed the thoughts away.

“Talk about what?” Mike looked a little nervous.

“Relax, kid, it’s nothing bad. Look, I was unfair to you this morning, okay? You should always want to learn, and you should always be able to.” Harvey cleared his throat. “It’s three thirty. You still want to get that license?”

Mike nodded wildly. “Really?”

“Really. Go ahead and put on your...one pair of jeans you have to your name. I’ll get you some more on the way home.”

Harvey had come to terms that afternoon that as long as he intended to keep Mike around -- which wasn’t much longer; it was too risky, and besides, he’d promised Ted -- he needed to at least make sure the kid could dress decently.

It took about ten seconds for Mike to dive off the bed and change, and then he was following Harvey out, trying to reign in his excitement.

 

*

“Full name.”

“Uhh...Michael Ross.”

“Date of birth?”

“Seven fifteen ninety-six.”

“Address?”

Mike stopped, mouth opening, closing, opening. “Um…I don’t…I don’t have one?”

“You don’t have an address, kid? I’m sorry, you can’t get a license without one.”

Mike felt panic, sick panic, rising in his chest, stomach churning just from sheer misery. His whole life was a vicious cycle. Couldn’t do shit in the system, couldn’t do shit outside of it. He used to list his group home address, usually on school related things. On job applications, he just made one up. But the group home had been closed for nearly a year, and he couldn’t lie about an address on a legal document.

“I’m, um…” He wanted to cry. All this for nothing. Fighting with Harvey for nothing. Making Harvey shift his whole schedule around…for nothing.

“What’s the problem?” Harvey asked, striding up from where he was waiting by a door.

Mike was about to speak when the clerk beat him to it.

“Is he yours?” she asked. “Says he has no address. Can’t make him an ID without one, sir.”

Mike held his breath, watching Harvey and waiting for the inevitable, _No, he’s not mine._ But it never came. No confirmation, but no denial either.

Harvey fished his own license from his wallet and slid it across the counter. “Use this one. He lives there.”

Mike gaped for a second and then very quietly exhaled. He stay silent for the rest of the process, not daring to speak and risk saying the wrong thing and changing Harvey’s mind and fucking things up the way he’d always felt like he did.

 

Once they left, though, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. And then Harvey was handing him the keys, and he was panicking all over again.

“Harvey--”

“What’s the point of a learner’s permit if you’re not going to use it?” Harvey held open the driver’s door and nodded for Mike to get in.

“Okay, but--this car is probably a hundred thousand dollars, and I’ve never driven before, not even once--”

“Two hundred and eighty thousand,” Harvey corrected. “And hence why you’re starting now, kid, come on.”

Mike hurried over. His heart was pounding from nerves and excitement; the anticipation of learning, and of potentially failing were colliding together. He slid into the front seat, and waited.

“Four rules,” Harvey began, once he was seated in the passenger seat. “One, put on your seatbelt.”

Mike complied.

“Two, pay attention. Three, relax. You’re fine.” Harvey reached across the seats and squeezed Mike’s shoulder. “Adjust your seats, mirrors -- you know how to do that right.”

“I think I can figure it out.”

“Good. Then turn it on. We’ll go from there.”

Mike nodded. He found the right buttons to put his seat closer to the wheel; he adjusted all the mirrors until he could see everything behind him, and then turned the ignition.

The sound of the engine was intimidating. He’d never operated any kind of machine in his life and despite the fact that people drove cars every day, to him, it was a foreign concept, and most of all -- it would always be a cold reminder of the way his parents had died.

But he didn’t focus on that. He focused on Harvey’s voice beside him, commanding but calm and surprisingly patient, which Mike realized wasn’t actually too out of character, considering what Harvey had already taught him.

“Foot on the clutch and the brake," Harvey instructed, placing Mike’s hand on the gearshift and covering it with his own. “Okay?”

Mike nodded.

“Good.” Harvey guided Mike’s hand until the car was in reverse. “Ready?”

“I think. Hey, Harvey?”

“What?”

“Uh...what’s the fourth rule?”

Harvey tightened his hand on top of Mike’s. “You wreck this car and I will literally kill you.”

 

*

Ted didn’t come over that night. Something about court again the next day, and Harvey believed him; believed that he was getting over his complex about Harvey’s tryst with Mike - or whatever it was. Honestly, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it.

“That was _awesome.”_

Mike’s young voice drifting into the room got Harvey’s attention, and he looked up. He was about to look over the files he’d given Mike and see if there was any breakthroughs or handiwork, but now he was distracted.

“I didn’t know trying on jeans was so titillating.”

“Titillating?” Mike wrinkled his nose. “I was _talking_ about driving!”

Harvey nodded, looking him up and down, satisfied that the pants they’d bought fit Mike - and fit him well.

“You did good, kid,” Harvey said, and Mike preened under the compliment. “And as much as I enjoy watching you model those, you need to go bed.”

“Why?”

“Because you have school tomorrow. Where are your books, anyway? Do you have any?”

“In my locker. But you said I didn’t have to go.”

“Yeah, Mike, I said you didn’t have to go _today,_ not ever.”

Mike looked defeated, but he said, “Fine,” spun around and walked off.

 

After he was gone, Harvey sat there staring at the open file still on the coffee table. There was highlighting all over the place, little circles and notes Mike had written in the corners; all evidence of a brain that was reading too fast, thinking a hundred miles an hour, processing more information at once than ten people and a dozen computers combined could.

Harvey tried to make sense of it, but it was too much. He was tempted to drag Mike back out again, grill him on what he’d figured out, but it had been a long day, they were both tired, and if Harvey was being completely honest - he wanted to catch Mike before he fell asleep.

So he put all the papers back, shuffled them into a neat stack, and left it for tomorrow.

He made a detour into the kitchen where he downed a shot of whiskey and poured a glass of water.

When he walked into the bedroom, Mike was on his back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Is there a reason you’re on my side of the bed?”

Mike jumped like Harvey’s voice had ripped him from a trance. He rolled over a couple times. “No. Sorry.”

“Here.” Harvey passed him the water, and Mike took it gratefully.

“Thanks.”

Harvey just nodded, went into the bathroom where he debated whether or not to take a shower. In the end he decided just to brush his teeth, which led to him rinsing out his mouth just as he was dropping his toothbrush into its place - right beside the spare one that Mike had been using.

He closed his eyes. It was all too much. Ted had been right - he was in way too deep, and he had to end it. Part of him didn’t really care how he did it, as long as he did. But another part of him, somewhere inside, was trying to think of a way to let Mike down easily; not throw him out the door to fend for himself in the winter.

By the time he got into bed, Harvey still wasn’t sure what to do. So he just got under the covers, pulled Mike up against him, and started running his hands up and down Mike’s leg.

He kissed him gently, a complete 180 from the aggressive kisses that morning, but still with the same intentions. Then he tilted Mike’s chin up.

“You can’t stay here forever. You know that right?”

Mike blinked. Once what Harvey was telling him sunk in, he nodded slowly. But his chest ached with sadness and even more anxiety, because what the fuck was he supposed to do now that Harvey was officially done with him? He had no money, no job, no family, no home, no ties to the community, and a twenty-thousand dollar bill that he was starting to realize he had no plausible chance of ever paying.

All of that, plus the warm hand on him, stroking the inside of his thigh, and Mike was on the brink of bursting into tears right there against Harvey’s chest.

Instead, he just said, “I know,” in a broken but mostly-resigned voice. He kept his emotions tightly bottled up, because he knew Harvey didn’t know how to respond to them, and that it would only make things worse.

Harvey thought long and hard about what he was about to say before deciding that there was no longer an incentive not to tell Mike.

“I took care of it,” was all he said at first. And when Mike looked at him with questioning eyes, he added, “Your grandmother’s bill. They’re not going to move her now.”

“You...you _paid it?”_

Harvey nodded.

"All of it?"

"All of it." 

“When? I mean--Harvey, I can’t--I can’t take it, I can’t take all that money, I’ll never be able to pay you back, and--”

Mike was stuttering, tugging on Harvey’s shirt, borderline frantic.

“Sshh.” Harvey pressed his finger against Mike’s lips. “It’s already done, kid. And I don’t expect you to pay me back.”

“But..I will, I swear. I’ll work really hard and it’ll probably take me years but I _swear,_ Harvey, I’ll pay you back.” Mike’s eyes welled up and he tucked his face against Harvey’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered.

All Mike’s anxiety and fear about being back on the streets - or worse, back in the system for another excruciating year - didn’t go away, but for a moment it did slip to the back of his mind. He felt his entire body sinking further into the bed in total relief. It was twenty-thousand pounds off his shoulders.

“You’re welcome, kid.” Harvey’s hand drifted up from Mike’s thigh to his waistband and tugged. He nudged Mike’s head back with his own and kissed him, breathing hotly on his face when he whispered, “Roll over.”

 

*

As if things weren’t convoluted enough, it was the following morning that it all went to hell.

It started off okay, considering the situation: Harvey dropped Mike off at school, and Ray, thankfully, still didn’t ask any questions.

At work, Harvey got out of the car and met Ted just outside the entrance, where they drank the coffee Ted had brought and mingled, standing as close as always.

“Did you really have court this morning or did you ditch me again?”

Ted rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t ditch you, Harvey. I just figured it would be in both of our best interests if let you deal with your runaway first. But yeah, as a matter of fact, I did have court again.”

“I’m dealing with it, okay?”

“Do whatever you need to do. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. But I’m telling you, I have it under control. I...told him he can’t stay any longer.”

“No shit?” Ted took a sip of his coffee and looked at Harvey intently. “How’d that go over?”

“Better than I expected. But I know him. It’s the calm before the storm.”

“So that’s it, your heart has turned back into stone?”

“I’m not so sure it ever wasn’t.”

“Good point. So when are you kicking him out? And what about our case?”

“I haven’t decided. Told him he could stay tonight. And I don't know yet. I’ll ask him tonight what genius breakthroughs he had.”

Ted nodded. “Shame we’re going to lose his brain, too.”

“That’s not the worst part,” Harvey explained. “I look at him and I see..a kid, obviously, part of me, I get this feeling like want to protect him and it pisses me off, Ted. It pisses me off because I don’t _want_ to care. I don’t want to pace my condo at two in the morning wondering where he’s at, if he’s safe, or cold. I just want to fuck him, over and over, no regrets, no obligations.”

“I can see the perks, Harvey, literally,” Ted told him. “But I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. It sounds like your conscience is trying to battle it’s way into...existence - which, for the record, is freaking me out - and I don’t know what the hell you should do.”

Harvey sighed. “I suppose I could go to work and pretend I never did this in the first place.”

They turned, shoulder to shoulder, and headed toward the doors - and that’s when it happened. Two men in trenchcoat-covered suits approached them from the direction of a tinted car idling against the sidewalk.

Harvey had seen enough cops in his line of work that he could make them right away. He tensed; a gut instinct suddenly telling him something was wrong - but he wasn’t sure why. Police came to the firm infrequently, but when they did, it was typically case- or client-related, especially when there was embezzlement or fraud involved.

But today something was off. The way they walked was swift and certain, coming to a halt only a couple yards away, one quickly flipping open a legitimate badge before pocketing it again.

“Harvey Specter?” one asked.

Harvey couldn’t manage a _yes,_ so he just gave a firm nod. Ted stared between the three of them, confused but not entirely concerned. Yet, anyway.

“We need to ask you to come down to the station with us.”

“What the hell for?”

“A few questions. As a courtesy we’re asking you to voluntarily come with us, if you’d like to avoid a scene here, outside the firm.”

Ted was finally becoming suspicious. “A scene? Harvey, what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey replied. He turned back toward the officers. “Unless you’re willing to pay me fifteen-hundred dollars an hour, every hour, for however long this is going to keep me from working, I’m going to have to decline.”

“In that case, we’ll be forced to place you under arrest.”

Harvey’s blood went cold.

“We’d prefer not to put you cuffs here, but we need you come with us immediately.”

Ted’s voice sounded distant when he spoke, no match for the ringing in Harvey’s ears. “Whoa, hold on, _cuffs?_ What the _fuck_ is this about?”

No answer. The suits were focused solely on Harvey, who wasn’t moving. His feet were planted firmly in place, mouth going dry; still not remotely sure what the hell was happening, but at the same time having a nagging sense of what it might be.

He finally handed a baffled, shocked-silent Ted his coffee, almost a second too late. He felt his forearm grasped firmly as the cops lost patience, bringing it behind his back; first his right, then his left.

Ted was finally snapping out of his own daze, but his face was still nearly drained of color. “I’m getting Jessica,” he announced, turning quickly to go inside.

Harvey wanted to call out, to tell him no, but he knew immediately that if he had the slightest chance of getting out of this -- Jessica was likely his best bet.

Regardless of how poorly he’d tried to hide Mike from anyone, he still had no idea how anyone besides him, Mike, and Ted were privy to what was going on. But none of that mattered once he felt cold metal around his wrists.

He knew it was over, and he knew exactly what it was about. He closed his eyes when the words hit him, like ice water and fifteen bullets:

“Harvey Specter, you’re under arrest for sexual misconduct with a minor.”

By the time they read him his rights, Harvey was already zoning out.

*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so apparently there's going to be one more chapter after this, because I wasn't quite able to wrap things up. this chapter raises more questions than it answers, but everything will be cleared up by the end of the story. 
> 
> also, I wrote a lot of the one shot I'm planning as a follow-up in this 'verse, set about 1-1 1/2 years later.
> 
> thanks for reading! :)
> 
> TW: if you need specific warnings, please read the end notes first.

*

 

Being senior partner at one of the most recognized law firms in the city had it’s perks -- Harvey was out on bond in less than an hour, thanks to Jessica. But one of the downsides of having his level of status was that it came with the certainty that if the press found out about the charges, his career was over.

There was the potential to bounce back from lesser scandals. An ugly divorce, a public custody battle, even corruption within the firm wasn’t necessarily career suicide. Louis had overcome sexual harassment claims; even Hardman had seemed to win back loyalty from over half the partners, and make a clean exit with his reputation hardly worse for wear.

But Harvey knew this was different. He was a corporate lawyer; this was so far beyond of his spectrum of expertise that he didn’t even know where to begin to try and get himself out of it.

 

He left the station with nausea and a court date, stepped outside and came face-to-face with Jessica. Her arms were folded tight, expression completely blank. Not even disappointment, or concern, or confusion -- just void of any emotion at all, which was a thousand times more terrifying.

“Jessica--”

“I don’t want you to talk. Just get in the damn car, Harvey.”

After sitting in the backseat in total silence for half the ride, Jessica turned her head toward Harvey.

“Who knows?”

“Just Ted,” Harvey replied, swallowing hard. “And...Mike.”

“Mike?”

He looked down. “Yeah.”

“Same kid you’ve been dragging to the office and lying to me about?”

“No, there’s six of them. Yeah, Jessica, it’s same goddamn one.”

Jessica shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

A few more blocks passed. As much as Harvey didn’t want to talk about it, the silence was unbearable.

“No one else, Harvey? You’re positive?”

Harvey sighed. “Look, maybe Donna asked about him more than once but there’s no way she found out and even if there was, she’d never do this.”

“Even with something like this, you still think there’s no limit to her loyalty?”

“There isn’t, and you know it, Jessica.” Harvey fought away the fleeting sense of doubt in his head, adding bluntly, “Next question.”

“Ted.”

“What about him?”

Jessica tossed up her hands. “I don’t know, Harvey, let’s count. You jerk him around for five years in college, you keep him suspended somewhere between boyfriend and fuckbuddy, you pick up twenty-five year olds on the weekend and he falls off your list of priorities. Then you hit an all time low with this and rub it in his face.”

It was hardly noon and Harvey was already exhausted. Jessica’s words and all of her gesticulation was making his head pound. That and the barrage of accusations she’d hurled his way was pissing him off.

“He’s my _best_ friend, Jessica! He’s been with me through everything, and he was with me this morning. Don’t even--don’t even _try_ put this on him.”

Jessica spun towards him again. “I’m not _putting_ this on anyone except _you,_ Harvey! _You_ did this. Take responsibility for your actions for once in your life!”

Harvey didn’t say anything for a while after that. He just stared blankly out the window, nothing going through his head except Jessica’s voice and a low buzzing sound.

“What’s the last thing you said to him? Harvey, listen to me for god’s sake.”

_“What?”_

“This kid you’ve been sleeping with. What’s the last thing you said to him?”

“What?” Harvey repeated, frowning, because what the hell did that have to do with anything? “Why does it matter?”

“Humor me.”

He sighed and thought back on the night before. “I...told him I helped him out with some money problems. Then I told him he couldn’t stay with me any longer.”

“What money problems?”

“Jessica… Do we have to do this now?”

 _“What_ money problems, Harvey?”

“I don’t know specifically, okay? Something to do with his grandmother and her medical bills and blah blah blah, he was crying about it all the time and it was annoying the shit out of me so I paid it to get him to shut up, okay?”

“Harvey Specter, the humanitarian. How much did it cost to shut him up?”

“Twenty thousand.”

Jessica had to grit to her teeth and take a deep breath before she could even continue. “So let me get this straight, Harvey. He turned on the waterworks for what, five days? Until you finally paid up, and then -- and this was _brilliant_ \-- told him all about your sudden magnanimity, and threatened to throw him out all at once?”

“Pretty much. What’s your point, Jessica?”

“This kid got what he wanted from you and then you washed your hands of him. You don’t see any problem with that at all?”

“Yeah, I see the fucking problem, Jessica. He wanted more than just the money and I told him no, and he’s pissed. What the hell am I supposed to do about it now?”

Jessica’s anger was still bottled up, but Harvey could still feel it, taking up more space than them in the car, and he knew he hadn’t even come close to experiencing the worst of her wrath yet.

“You’re on leave,” she deadpanned.

“Jessica--”

 _“Shut up._ You go to court, you come back, you keep a low profile. I don’t want to see your face at work.”

“How the hell is that keeping a low profile? Suddenly I just disappear ‘on leave’ for the first time in fifteen years?”

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Jessica stared him down. “If you want this to go away, you’ll let me handle it.”

Resigned, Harvey just nodded and looked back out the window, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“How old is he?”

“Seventeen,” Harvey mumbled.

Jessica grabbed his arm, which was so unlike her that he startled and looked up.

“Don’t lie to my face again, Harvey. I need to know how bad this is so I know how to fight it, and that kid didn’t look a day over fifteen. So I’m going to ask you one more time -- _how_ old is he?”

It took more than ten seconds for Harvey to force the words out. “He was sixteen the first time.”

“Where’d you pick him up? Some strip club?”

“More or less.”

“Then you thought he was legal,” Jessica said. “That’s a valid defense.”

“But I knew he wasn’t,” Harvey confessed. “It’s half the reason I wanted to take him home.”

When the car finally rolled up outside his condo, he closed his eyes in complete relief. Even if he had harder battles to fight, escaping Jessica’s brutal third degree was all he could hope for at the moment.

He climbed out and almost shut the door before she could say anything else. Almost.

“And Harvey?”

He turned around.

“If that kid is still in there,” she called. “I suggest you get him the hell out in the next ten minutes, and do it without touching him.”

 

*

Harvey paced back and forth, looking at his watch every ten seconds, all while ignoring his ringing phone because talking to Ted wasn’t something he could handle right now.

Eventually, he calmed down and tried to eat, but he was too nauseated. Tried to sleep, but he was too anxious. So he took a shower and found himself in the living room trying a second time to make sense of what Mike had written all over those files, briefly regretting not asking him to explain it before Mike left for the day, but quickly remembering that he had much bigger - possibly insurmountable - problems to deal with.

Ted and Louis would have to finish the case without him and he could only hope they'd manage to decipher the handwriting of a beautiful mind. 

 

At 2:30, Harvey started to sweat. Most of him knew that Mike had nowhere else to go and that he’d asked to stay at least another night, which Harvey knew was code for buying more time to beg for even more time.

He told himself that even if what Jessica had said was _logical_ , it didn’t make it true. Because _Mike_ wasn’t logical in the first place; he was young and reckless and emotional and irrational and all of those things could have totally backfired on Harvey, but he’d convinced himself for days that they would work in his favor instead.

Still, the doubts crept in, insidious, making him more and more impatient as the minutes ticked by. 

If Mike hadn’t turned him in -- and the idea that he could have, still, for the most part, sounded absolutely ludicrous in Harvey’s head -- he still needed the kid in order to get himself out of hot water. Water that would inevitably start to boil.

He sat trying to convince himself none of it was really happening, which was pointless, because the gravity of the situation wasn’t something he could shake off. Felony charges didn’t just disappear because he knew people who knew people who knew people.

Looking for a band-aid to put on the massive wound, Harvey went into the kitchen, started pouring drinks and downing them, all while asking himself how the fuck he’d been so stupid.

 

At ten after three, Mike walked in, just about the time all the liquor hit Harvey’s bloodstream and any relief he felt at Mike’s presence was quickly becoming replaced with anger.

“Hey.” Mike set a book down on the counter. “You’re home early.”

It wasn’t until Harvey took a few more steps toward him that Mike realized something was wrong, based on the way Harvey’s shoulders were tense, his jaw was tight, eyes slightly unfocused. Just staring, like a rubber band about to snap.

“Sit down,” he growled.

Mike looked confused, but he didn’t argue with Harvey’s tone of voice. He crossed his path as fast as he could and took a seat on the couch, fidgeting nervously and wracking his brain for anything new that he might have done wrong.

Harvey came to a stop a couple yards away. “I want you to tell me every single thing you did today, and everyone you talked to, and if you leave out one single detail I swear to God--”

“I went to school,” Mike said.

“Before that.”

“Uh...I took a shower?”

“You asking me or telling me, Mike? What else?”

“I took a shower. And then...I skipped my first class. I went to see my grandmother, but we didn’t really talk about anything--” he paused and winced a little, “because she didn’t remember me.”

“And then?”

“Then I went to my last two classes. Then I came ho--then I came back here. You said I could, you said--”

Harvey cut him off. “I know what I said. Who else did you talk to?”

“No one. I don’t have anyone else to talk to.” Mike was puzzled, and on edge, because he’d seen Harvey pissed off, and frustrated, but he’d never seen him this quietly angry before. “Why are you asking me this?”

Silence. Harvey rocked on his feet once, just stared at Mike, felt his head spinning from the alcohol. His anger was rising and his patience was evaporating.

“Mike, do you remember when I told you that you couldn’t tell _anyone_ what we were doing?”

Mike nodded.

“And remember,” Harvey’s voice was dangerously calm. “When you promised me that you wouldn’t?”

Another nod.

“And you didn’t?”

“What?” Mike shook his head wildly, “No, Harvey, I didn’t _tell_ anyone!”

Harvey looked long and hard at Mike’s face, and into his eyes, and tried to believed him. But that didn’t get him any closer to finding out how any of it had come to this.

“I’m in trouble, Mike,” he admitted, turning away. “I’m in a lot of trouble.”

When he headed back into the kitchen, Mike followed. “Harvey, what happened? What kind of trouble?”

Harvey looked at him over another glass. “What the hell kind of trouble do you think, Mike? Trouble, like jail trouble, like I-have-to-go-to-court trouble.” He motioned between them. “You know the law, Mike. What we’re-- _I’m_ \--doing...it’s ten kinds of illegal.”

“Did you…” Mike looked down. “Did you...go to jail?”

“Yeah, I did. Jessica got me out, but that doesn’t mean shit after today.”

“But...you’ll get out of it, right? I mean it’s not a big deal, you’re a lawyer, and you have a lot of money, and I’m sure that you can just--”

Harvey slammed his glass down on the counter. Mike jumped.

“Just do _what,_ Mike? Pay off a judge? Rig a jury? Resign?”

Mike slinked back. “I don’t know.”

“No, come on,” Harvey said, but it was in the form of a warning; a challenge at best. His head was hazy now. He came around to Mike’s side of the counter. “You’re so sure I can just snap my fingers and make this go away, why don’t you tell me how, Mike? You’re the little genius, come on, think about it. Tell me.”

“I don’t _know,_ Harvey!” Mike looked up and took a few steps back. His fists opened and squeezed, not because he was mad, but because he was confused, and frustrated, and a little scared of all the potential ramifications -- for Harvey and for himself -- and he didn’t know how to handle everything he was feeling. He tried, more than once, but he couldn’t. He was smart, insanely so, but his brain wasn’t even fully developed; he just didn’t have the coping skills.

And Harvey was still berating him, and the room felt like it was closing in.

Harvey grabbed his arm. “Tell me again you had nothing to do with this, Mike.”

“I didn’t!”

“Mike, if you opened your mouth, this is your last chance to tell me. I’ll find out anyway, but it’ll be a lost worse for both of us.”

Mike felt his eyes water. He struggled in Harvey’s grip, but it didn’t loosen. “I swear, I didn’t.”

“This could ruin my life, Mike,” Harvey hissed. He twisted Mike’s arm and jerked him forward. _“Look_ at me! Give a good reason why I should believe you.”

“You _know_ me!”

“No, Mike, that's the problem, I _don’t_ know you! All I _know_ is that you have a 190 IQ but all you’re doing with your life is taking off your clothes for money. All I _know_ is that you’re some kid who caused people so many problems in the system, that they don’t even _look_ for you.”

Mike flinched at the last sentence and tried to turn his face away from Harvey and the hot breath on him that reeked of scotch.

“So give me a fucking reason to believe you. Ten seconds, Mike.”

Harvey half-expected that this would be the moment where Mike’s brain kicked in and he said something rational or sarcastic or hell, just admitted it altogether and told Harvey to go to hell. But when Harvey reached out with his free hand to turn Mike’s head toward him, he realized there was no rebellion left in his eyes this time. Just tears.

“Because, I don’t have anyone else, Harvey,” Mike cried. “You have y-your career, and--and your family and your friends...people who would notice if you were gone. All I have is you.”

Harvey closed his eyes. He was not sober. “Okay,” he sighed, and tugged Mike against him. “Okay.”

Mike wrapped his arms around Harvey’s waist and cried freely into his chest, and for several minutes, Harvey just stood and let him.

Eventually he whispered, into Mike’s hair, “You need to get your things and go down to the precinct.”

“No.” Mike held on tighter, but Harvey pushed him back.

“You have to. Right now.”

“No, Harvey!” Mike backed away like Harvey might physically drag him out. “They’ll put me back in the system!”

“Then you’re going to have to suck it up for one more fucking year, Mike!”

“I can’t handle it for one more _day,_ don’t you _get_ that?!”

“Mike. I am sorry, okay?” Harvey shook his head regretfully. “I am sorry, Mike, but I can’t help you this time. My hands are tied.”

Mike stood across the room, shaking, and trying to catch his breath. “Remember when I said I never owed anyone before?”

Harvey didn’t answer, just looked back, waiting - and dreading - whatever Mike was about to say.

“I lied,” he sniffled. _“Please_ don’t send me back.”

Harvey tossed up his hands in defeat and walked away. Behind him, Mike took off into the bedroom, crawling into Harvey’s bed like it was the only safe haven he’d ever had.

 

Meanwhile, Harvey was back in the kitchen, fighting off a headache, and staring at what was left of the whiskey. He stood there for a long time, trying to think, trying to come up with anything at all to fix _something_ in the whole fucked up situation.

Ultimately he was able resist the urge to get blackout drunk, tore himself away, and went off to his room.

He found Mike curled up in the fetal position, tear tracks on his face, looking off into space.

Without saying a word, Harvey went into his closet, dug out an old gym bag and set it on the end of the bed. He picked out as many old clothes he had that looked like they might be remotely close to fitting Mike, and began folding them and putting them inside.

It took a few minutes for Mike to snap out of his trance and realize what Harvey was doing, but when he did, he sat up and began pulling everything back out of the bag. Harvey put it back. Mike pulled all the clothes out again. It became a race to find out who could pack and unpack the fastest.

Aggravated, Harvey finally shoved him away. “Mike, stop! Goddamnit, I’m trying to help you! I don’t want to throw you on the street, but if you don’t want them to put you back in a foster home, then I don’t know what else to do. I have three felony charges against me right now, okay? You _have_ to get out.”

Mike was finally stunned into silence. He just sat and watched, bleary-eyed and exhausted from crying, as Harvey hastily folded everything up again.

Then Harvey found an old sweatshirt in the dresser and added it to the pile. He rummaged around the room and the bathroom, throwing Mike’s toothbrush on top of the clothes, along with soap, deodorant, and any other nearby necessities he could find.

He zipped up the bag and took a deep breath. “Can you go to a shelter?”

Mike didn’t respond right away. It was winter, it was thirty-five degrees out, and the shelters were at capacity this time of year, and single mothers were, understandably, given priority. He knew he had no chance of getting in.

But there was no point in telling Harvey that, so eventually he just nodded.

“Good,” Harvey said. He took out his wallet and pulled out a large amount of cash. “Don’t go waving this around, okay? I’d give you a credit card but I don’t want you using it under my name.”

He outstretched his hand.

Mike just stared at it. “I don’t want any more of your money,” he said quietly.

Harvey sighed and set the cash on the bed. “Just take it, Mike. Or don’t, I don’t care.”

He left the room, returning a few minutes later with whatever non-perishable snacks he had in his cupboards. He stuffed them into another compartment in the bag.

Mike spoke up again, but was still so quiet that Harvey could barely hear him. “I didn’t use you.”

“What?”

“I didn’t use you. I know Ted thinks I was just using you to pay for my grandmother’s care, and like, have somewhere to stay, but I wasn’t. I’ll get a real job, I’ll pay it all back.”

“Mike...I appreciate the sentiment, but you need to get on your own feet before you even think about paying anyone back.”

Mike figured he probably shouldn’t be making such long-term promises since he didn’t even feel much like living at the moment, but he was still determined to make it up to Harvey.

“I’m still gonna pay you back.”

“You wanna pay me back, Mike? Then be at the courthouse on Thursday, ten a.m., and tell them this is all bullshit.” Harvey picked up the bag full of everything he’d packed, and nodded toward the door.

Very slowly, Mike crawled off the bed and followed Harvey out of the room.

“I’m assuming you remember my number?”

Mike nodded.

“Anything happens, you call me--” Harvey paused. “I mean, if anything _significant_ happens, like someone tries to kill you.”

He lifted the bag off the floor and helped slide it over Mike shoulders. Mike didn’t move.

Seeing him so despondent was finally making Harvey feel bad. But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t keep Mike there even if he wanted to.

“Come on,” he said gently. He opened the front door.

Mike’s legs felt like lead when he walked through it. He didn’t say another word. Neither did Harvey.

He started to turn around, but the door had already closed, and he heard Harvey turning the locks.

 

Mike took a deep breath as he stepped outside. And the freezing wind and cold punched him in the face. 

 

*

Harvey had been in courtrooms a million times. But never on this side of the law.

He was standing, tense as ever, for what seemed like eternity. Ted was several chairs behind, and Harvey was grateful, but it only helped so much since he couldn’t see him.

When the judge finally entered, Harvey breathed a long, slow sigh of relief. It was probably one of the three judges in the entire city that he _didn’t_ know. Inside, he thanked Jessica about forty times.

The day before had been excruciating. He’d gone stir crazy. Ted had called, and that time, Harvey had picked up. He’d answered some questions -- _Is he gone? Yeah, he’s gone --_ but Ted knew, for the most part, what was happening, so there hadn’t been a whole lot else to say. Mostly, the call was just for moral support.

He’d talked to Jessica next, and then again, begging for an update, until she finally told him to stop.

“Harvey, if you want me to get you out of this absolute pile of shit you got yourself into, stop wasting my time.”

Begrudgingly, he’d hung up and left her alone after.

He hadn’t slept more than thirty minutes, but by the time court was in session, he was wide awake.

“Harvey Specter?”

“Yes, your honor.”

It physically pained him to be so uncharacteristically polite, and to be so without sounding sarcastic. But the fallout would be devastating and irreversible. So Harvey would suck it up to save his career, and his reputation.

“You’re being charged with three counts of first degree sexual misconduct with a minor…” the judge was looking down and reading. “As well as unlawful harboring of, and contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

Harvey felt sick. Each charge was a gut punch, and they just kept echoing over and over in his head. There was one in particular that he kept getting stuck on.

_Contributing to the delinquency of a minor._

A misdemeanor was something he could probably make go away, and it was hardly his biggest problem at the moment, but it didn’t make sense. Even when he thought back, to every single thing he had done with or said to Mike, he couldn’t find a single reason for the charge. He’d kept Mike out of school for one day, but no one except Ted knew that, and it wasn’t prolonged truancy. It was one day; Mike may as well have had a cold for all anyone knew.

He certainly hadn’t forced Mike to work at a strip club. On the contrary, he’d actually gotten Mike _out_ of that situation. And who was even paying any attention to Mike? The system never gave a shit before, and he couldn’t see why they’d bother now.

Then, Harvey recalled, he had a slight flashback to sliding Mike a glass of whiskey:

_“I don’t have to promise shit, kid. Finish your drink.”_

_“I don’t like it. It’s too strong.”_

_“And I don’t like it going to waste. Drink it.”_

He couldn’t think of anything else relevant, and he thought even that incident was a stretch. And he also didn’t forget the fact that _no one -_ not even Ted - knew about it. It was a minor detail that he’d left out when he was regaling Ted with the events, not intentionally, but because it hadn’t been all that memorable. Mike may have been an easy target to start with, but Harvey had wanted him a little tipsy because it made him too dizzy to talk too much, and it had worked. It just hadn’t seemed like a big deal.

The judge’s voice, becoming louder and more irritated, pulled Harvey back to the present.

“Mr. Specter. How do you plead?"

Harvey took a deep breath before telling the biggest lie of his entire life. “Not guilty.”

 

*

By the time Harvey left the courthouse, he felt like throwing up. There was no more grace period. Either Jessica was going to work magic, or he was going to be disbarred and potentially jailed by sunrise.

On the steps, Ted gently adjusted Harvey’s tie. “It’ll be okay.”

“Ted…you don’t have to try and make me feel better. I know what I’m in for. So do you.”

“Fine. But you know I’m with you the whole way.”

Harvey forced a weak, but grateful smile, and Ted looked at his watch.

“I have to get back,” he said.

“I’m sorry you’re pulling my weight too.”

“Don’t even worry about that, okay?”  Ted just gave him a comfortable squeeze on the shoulder before they parted ways.

 

Harvey took languid steps away from the building, as if by moving slow enough he might also slow down the passing of time.

Just a few yards down, lingering on the sidewalk, he caught sight of Mike.

Harvey hadn’t expected him to show. He was fairly certain the kid hadn't reported him, but he also didn’t think Mike was so invested in going the extra mile to protect him by getting all tangled up in the law -- a risky place for a runaway to voluntarily throw himself into.

But Harvey hid his surprise, because it was bad form, and because even now that hell was breaking loose, he still didn’t want Mike to ever think he had the upper hand.

“Using my money to buy those?” Harvey kept his voice calm and casual as he approached; feigning indifference to hide the fact that, inside, he was absolutely losing it.

Mike was taking a long drag of a cigarette, and scoffed at Harvey’s words. “No. It’s amazing what people will give you instead of food.”

Harvey looked Mike over, noticing his face was windburned. He was paler than usual and appeared dehydrated. A twinge of concern, like the kind he’d had when he’d kicked Mike out, crept back in.

“You showed up.”

“I did.”

“I think you’d be more useful if you actually went inside.”

“Already did,” Mike said. “I had to talk to a judge and some...lady, I don’t know, she was some sort of victim counselor or something.”

 _Victim._ Harvey winced.

“What did you tell them?”

Mike shrugged. “That nothing happened. I said you were a friend and my parents were out of town and you were just watching me for a few days until they got back.”

“They bought that?”

“Hook, line, and sinker. They have too much to deal with already, they’re not gonna go digging into it. Plus, I said you have a lot of enemies -- occupational hazard -- and there were a lot of people who probably saw us together and thought making up this story would be good retaliation for, like, losing their case or something.”

“That’s…” Harvey shook his head. “That’s actually...brilliant.”

“Plus I poked a shit ton of holes in all the charges. Mostly for the fun of it.”

“And how’d you do that?”

“Well for starters, according to the compelling fake I.D. I still have from the club, I’m almost nineteen years old.” Mike grinned proudly. “So even if what they’re saying was true, it wouldn’t be illegal.”

Despite Mike’s prior propensity to find his way out of every corner -- aside from the one his life had shoved him in -- Harvey was still impressed.

Mike dropped the cigarette, crushed it with his shoe, and looked up into Harvey’s eyes. When he spoke again, he didn’t sound proud or confident anymore. “But it is true. Isn’t it?”

“Mike…”

“Forget it, Harvey, I don’t care. I’m fine. I mean, look at me, I’m doing great, right?” he began to turn around. “Anyway...thanks for, you know...everything else.”

For the second time in less than two days, Harvey stood and watched Mike walk away.

 

*

Nine days.

That's how long Mike lasted on his own. Until he was so cold that his lips were cracked and bloody; until he hadn’t slept in seventy-two hours; until he was so hungry and thirsty he was on the verge of collapse.

Which is exactly what he did, knocking twice on Harvey’s door just after ten p.m., before crashing forward and slumping against it. Mike heard his name called out, felt strong arms grab him under his arms -- and then he blacked out.

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of sexual abuse in the legal context; slight allusion to past child abuse; physical abuse (Harvey twists Mike's arm.)


End file.
